


And Adam Makes Three

by my_silent_hour



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 96,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_silent_hour/pseuds/my_silent_hour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> “So what do we do?”</i></p><p><i>“We do what hurts.”</i></p><p><i>A sickening chill worked its way through Adam’s chest. “I don’t share well.”</i></p><p><i>“Neither do I,” Sam said, then he turned and looked Adam in the eye. “But we agreed to do what’s best for Tommy. If he needs us both, then we give him that.” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> A huge, HUGE thank you to my beta, Aislinn, for her wonderful work on this as always, and for her guidance.
> 
> Thanks to RudeBunny for her awesome artwork, [which can be seen here.](http://rude-bunny.livejournal.com/19709.html)
> 
> Author's Notes: Totally took off on [this prompt](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1232292#t1232292) in the g_k thread. If that was your request, please raise your hand so I can thank you if you feel comfortable. Thanks to Aislinn for being a kickass beta as always, and to RudeBunny for her awesome artwork. Also, Sam is totally and completely mine. He's the main character in the novel I wrote, and I just couldn't stop writing about him.

Tommy watched the rain fall from the dark, looming clouds that hung over New York City. Safe behind thick panes of glass, he could marvel at the power of Mother Nature’s latest storm while staying dry and warm. Fifty some floors below him, the citizens of the city scrambled like rats to get out of the rain, ducking in doorways, jogging for taxis, and battling with umbrellas.

If Tommy turned around he would see stacks upon stacks of boxes, all sealed, precisely labeled, and ready to be shipped. But he didn’t want to look at those. At least, not yet.

“Hey.”

Warm arms, strong arms, snaked around Tommy’s waist and pulled him close. Tommy smiled and leaned back into the embrace, tucking his head into the valley between Sam’s collarbone and chin.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice was deep, vibrating low in his chest, tingling against Tommy’s back.

Tommy didn’t answer. His eyes flicked up to the ominous storm clouds. They were so high up, but Tommy felt like he could reach out and touch them if it wasn’t for the glass that kept him dry.

“Are we doing the right thing, Sam?”

Tommy finally turned around, keeping his gaze on his lover’s face instead of the boxes all around them. Sam held him tighter, keeping their bodies fused.

“I think this is what you need to do, yes,” Sam replied in that steady tone of his that always made Tommy feel so reassured. This time, however, it did nothing to still the butterflies in Tommy’s stomach.

“But is it what you want?”

Sam chuckled. “I can write anywhere. We need to be where you can play. And the scene here is so…”

As Sam searched for the perfect word (as a writer, the perfect word was always right there, just out of reach), Tommy jumped in. “Dull?”

Sam laughed again, pulling Tommy close so that he could nip his ear. “Not exactly what I was aiming for, but I’ll take it. You need to be with your kind.”

Tommy grinned at that and leaned back, searching his lover’s dark hazel eyes for any sign of worry. “But what about your kind? What about all your favorite coffee shops and libraries?”

Sam took a few steps backwards, sitting on a pile of boxes marked ‘kitchen.’ “I’ll find other spots to write. And who knows? Maybe I’ll hook up with a few screenplay writers and make it big in Hollywood.”

“God, Sam. You’ll hate those people,” Tommy said, not trying to be funny in the slightest.

“Probably,” Sam agreed, but his eyes were bright and filled with the laughter he kept inside. “I’ll most likely find them shallow, pretentious, and all around detestable. But I’m a writer. I don’t have to socialize if I don’t want to. And you… you need to be back with your bandmates and you need to do this album and tour.” Tommy opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t argue with me, you know you need this. I know you, Tommy. You miss them deep down to the soul.”

Tommy thought of Monte, of Isaac, of Cam and Neil and the dancers, and he nodded. Then he thought of Adam. A thousand protests formed behind his lips.

“But the tour—”

“Will be long, and difficult, and the most fun you’ve had since…well, since the last tour,” Sam said, standing and taking Tommy’s hand in his. “And we’ll be okay. What’s a few hundred miles when you’re in here all the time?” Sam pointed to his head, making Tommy laugh.

Sam called Tommy his muse, and because Sam’s closest companions were mostly imaginary, he kept Tommy’s character in his brain at all times. Since they’d started dating a year and a half ago, a pretty, blond musician had shown up in at least three of Sam’s novels.

Then Tommy’s laughter petered out, the vastness of the things to come stretching out before him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Really okay? I can understand if you aren’t.”

Sam looked away for a second, his eyes focusing on the view of the city. Then he nodded, turning back to Tommy with an equally serious face. “I’m okay with this, I promise. I’m okay with the tour, with moving…I’m okay with you working for him again.”

Him. Not the name, only a pronoun. Him. Adam.

“Okay,” Tommy said, trying to make himself sound convinced. He glanced around at the boxes and gave Sam a big smile. “Are we all done?”

“The only thing left is what we’ll carry in our suitcases tomorrow.”

Tommy nodded. Tomorrow they would be on a red-eye to L.A.; their boxes would follow a few days later. “I guess we’re ready, then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Sam stood and planted a small kiss on Tommy’s forehead while squeezing his shoulders. Then he turned to go. “Need to write. You’re very talkative today.”

Tommy laughed at that and watched Sam disappear down the hall to his study before turning back to the skyline of the city. In less than eight hours he’d be saying goodbye to this place, to the friends he’d made here, to the little stages he’d been playing on for over a year. In less than eight hours he’d be back in L.A. Back home. Back with his old friends and the old band.

Back with Adam.

With a grunt, Tommy turned to face the boxes and picked one up, hoping that the simple physical labor of moving would help him ignore the cold, leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach.

*

“Wow.”

Sam’s simple, stunned word echoed around the vaulted ceilings of their new, Los Angeles condo. It was a temporary home; a place to lay their heads while the tour was happening, until they were both in the same place long enough to pick out a real home. But, temporary as it was, the condo was just about the fanciest place Tommy had ever lived in, even nicer than their NYC apartment.

Tommy turned around slowly, giving his boyfriend a show while giggling like a madman. “Glam enough?”

Before Tommy could rotate fully, Sam’s arms were around him. “Definitely going to have to write another rocker blond into this novel.”

Tommy let Sam’s hands wander down his body, enjoying how Sam’s fingers created trails of heat all over his skin. It was one of those rare occasions where Tommy knew he looked good. A tight V-neck tee and black jeans molded to his body, his hair hung down over his eyes, and his eyes were rimmed with black.

“I should wear eyeliner more often,” Tommy said, turning to press his mouth against Sam’s for a short kiss.

“Not if you ever intend on going to rehearsal...” Sam said in that low, growly voice that he only used with Tommy, the one that said he meant business and sex was imminent.

Rehearsal. The word made the bottom of Tommy’s stomach feel like it dropped out.

“I really should get going.”

Sam blew out a breath and relented, arms loosening their grip around Tommy’s waist. “I suppose so.”

“I don’t know how long it’ll take today. I assume we’ll just talk over arrangements, experiment, that sort of thing.” Tommy stopped speaking when Sam held a hand up to quiet him.

“Take as long as you need. I’m just going to be sitting at the computer, talking to myself.”

Although Sam smiled, there was a shift in the air, and the atmosphere seemed to bear down on them like some heavy, unknowable thing. They could not put it off any longer. Today Tommy would see Adam again, for the first time in nearly two years. For the first time since Tommy had told Adam he just couldn’t bear watching him with other men when he was so in love with him himself, and had quit the band and walked out of Adam’s life for his own sanity.

Tommy swallowed and nodded to Sam, resolved. “I won’t be late. I love you.”

Sam kissed him and told Tommy he loved him too, but Tommy left for practice with the fear he’d seen in Sam’s eyes fresh in his mind.


	2. The Things You Said

_The taste of the beer was like vinegar in Tommy’s mouth. It was good Finnish beer, supposedly the best in the country, but Tommy only tasted acid. He finished off the bottle and plunked it down on the table with a loud clank._

 _Adam was out on the dance floor, as always, flanked by gorgeous men who were practically begging him to take them back to one of the dark, unlit rooms in this club and give them the fuck of their lives. Adam was kissing one of them. Sauli. Or Pauli. Maybe Mollie. Fuck if Tommy knew. Fuck if he cared._

 _“You okay?” Monte asked, screaming over the music from across the table._

 _Tommy glared at him. Monte was the only person in the world who knew, besides Chantala. That made three of them._

 _“Peachy,” Tommy responded, spitting on the first syllable. Monte shook his head, though Tommy didn’t know if it was out of disgust or pity, and turned back to watch the dancing. When Adam curled his hands over the blond Finnish boy’s ass cheeks and made a show of saying something in his ear, Tommy stood, almost knocking the table over with his abruptness._

 _“Gotta go,” he mumbled to Monte, and hightailed it out of the club before Monte could offer to walk back to the hotel with him, and before Adam could pull his latest toy down the same sad strip of pavement too._

 _Tommy heard them, though, later that night. Adam and Sauli-Pauli-Mollie-whoever-the-fuck, laughing in the hallway, and the unmistakable, rhythmic groaning of a hotel bed. The paper-thin walls in their cheap ass hotel did nothing to keep the sounds from invading Tommy’s space. So he listened, each creak and moan reminding him that Adam wasn’t his._

 _*_

Their rehearsal space was actually inside the recording studio, and Tommy had to walk down a narrow hallway filled with recording booths on either side to get to it. Silence bore down on him oppressively; not even a vocal riff or a guitar line echoed around the hall to drown out his own drumming pulse. Then, when he turned the handle of the door at the end of the hall, heavy metal blasted him in the face.

Monte was in the middle of the room, kneeling, his fingers sliding up and down the fret board of his guitar as the melody dipped and soared. Isaac sat behind a drum set, half-heartedly trying to pick up the beat on the toms and kick, and Cam paid them no attention as she set up her favorite keyboards in a semi-circle.

Isaac saw him first, letting his drumsticks clatter to the floor before sprinting over and flinging himself into Tommy’s arms. Tommy’s squeal when he dropped his guitar case alerted Cam to his presence and soon she was wrapped around the both of them. The wailing guitar died out just as Isaac and Cam let him go, and Tommy stood there, smiling like a goon at Monte, while Monte smiled like a goon back.

“God, it’s been too long.”

Monte’s big arms pulled him into a rib-crushing hug and Tommy held on tight, letting Monte squeeze the life out of him.

“Thanks for coming,” Monte said as he released Tommy, and Tommy gulped in some air.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. Thanks for calling.”

Monte gave him a half-hearted smile and kept his voice low. “He should have been the one to call.”

Tommy’s chest tightened. “Maybe. But he wanted me here. That’s all that matters.”

Monte nodded, his eyes flickering with a dozen emotions at once. He was still the only one of the band besides Adam that knew. At least, Tommy hoped he was. He hoped Monte and Adam both had made up some lame story to tell the others, something besides, “Tommy was too in love with Adam to get his shit together and be professional.”

“How’s the music?” Tommy asked, his voice overly bright, and Monte immediately switched gears.

“Dude. Wait until you hear it. What he and Tedder came up with…it’s fucking awesome. And the stuff he wrote on his own…”

“He wrote on his own?” Tommy asked, surprised and suddenly filled with something else. Something like pride. He looked to Cam, who was nodding.

“Yeah, he’s still struggling on piano, and it frustrates him that he writes faster than he can play, but most of the album is just his.” She beamed as she explained.

“Wow, that’s great. I knew he could—”

Tommy’s words were interrupted when the door swung open and a tall, handsome man swept into the room full of power and grace. He was barking into a cell phone, adjusting the sunglasses on his face, and signaling to the three people that followed him in all at once. Tommy recognized one of the followers as Lane, and she winked at him as she trailed behind, scribbling frantically on a clipboard. Her hair was shorter now, making her look elfin, which worked really well with her tiny features. Tommy waved at her before turning his gaze back to the man in the sunglasses.

 _Adam._

Tommy’s body shuddered. One rolling tremble from his toes all the way up to his head, like the small tremors in the L.A. earth that Tommy hadn’t missed at all when he’d lived in New York.

The man took a seat in the corner of the room, barely glancing at Monte or Tommy or any of them as he passed by. He continued to order around whoever was on the other end of the line, obviously pissed at something, and Tommy turned to Monte with a brow raised.

Monte shrugged, his guitar moving up and down with his shoulder. “He’s an important man now,” Monte said by way of explanation, but it sounded more like an apology.

Tommy watched Adam in the corner. Adam had always had presence, a magical air that made everyone sit up a little straighter and smile as soon as he walked into the room. But now that presence was demanding, knock-you-over powerful, authoritarian. And, Tommy decided, darker somehow.

Finally, after an abrupt and clipped, “Get it done, Nigel!” Adam slipped his phone into his back pocket, stood, then removed his sunglasses. Then, with what seemed like only two strides of his long legs, he stood in front of his band, grinning.

Another rolling tremble worked its way up Tommy’s spine, and he smiled back.

“Sorry I’m late. Interviews ran over.” Adam tossed a stabbing glance back at one of the people that had followed him into the room, a slight man in a crisp black shirt who looked to be fresh out of college. He had ‘newbie’ written all over him. Tommy wondered how long, exactly, the kid would keep his job. Then Adam was turned back to them, smiling wide. “A lot of work to do today, guys. Let’s get the songs cleaned up. We’re booked for studio time first thing in the morning, and the more polished we get today, the less we have to do tomorrow. Monte, want to pass out the charts? I’ve got to warm up, at least a little.”

Monte went to find the music and Isaac and Cam disappeared to continue their setup, and Tommy turned to go find his bass.

“Hey.”

The sound of Adam’s voice had Tommy turning back without question. “Hey,” he said back to Adam, as if they hadn’t spent two years apart, with a whole country and a whole lot of silence between them.

“Thanks for coming.”

Tommy nodded and then gave himself permission to actually look into Adam’s eyes. Gorgeous blue as always, they studied him, searching with concern and what might have been hope.

Adam’s eyes had always reminded Tommy of the way he felt looking out over the ocean. Just the intensity of seeing something so immeasurable and stunningly powerful, the way it always made him feel small, yet part of something divine and grand and infinite.

Adam let out a small, strange laugh. “The bassist on the last album kind of…”

“Sucked?” Tommy supplied, earning another awkward laugh from Adam. Tommy had seen the other guy once or twice, in moments stolen on YouTube when Sam wasn’t home and he looked up Adam’s performances. His stand-in had been nearly Monte’s doppelganger which meant that’d he’d fit in well, but there had certainly not been any stage gay and, Tommy was fairly certain, no tension offstage to warrant it.

“Yeah, he wasn’t good. Nice guy but it just—” Adam stopped himself short and then took a big breath before finishing his sentence. “It wasn’t the same.”

Tommy felt himself flush at the compliment. “Thanks. When I heard Karma, my hands were itching to add different bass lines all over the place. It could have used a couple glisses and a few inversions thrown into those chord progressions and… God, sorry.”

Tommy looked back up to Adam apologetically, only to find it wasn’t necessary. Adam’s smile had grown even wider and his eyes were brighter than before. But the brightness only highlighted bruise-like circles underneath his eyes, and Tommy’s breath hitched in concern.

“Well, you’re here now, so this one’s gotta be better than the second album, right?”

Tommy wanted to say something in return, but none of his responses really fit.

 _You should have called. Karma was awful. It should have been me playing for you._

 _You should have said yes._

Adam’s smile faded and he leaned down to get a better look at Tommy’s face. “Hey. Is this, I mean, the band and playing for me and everything. Is it okay?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s cool.” Tommy shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner.

“We should talk. Maybe we could get coffee after this?”

Talk. The word had seemed so innocuous at one point in his life. What would they talk about now? Tommy imagined it, imagined them catching up on the last two years like two old friends time forgot.

 _“Well, see Adam, after you told me you didn’t want to waste your time with a guy like me, I moved to New York City and drank myself stupid for six months until a writer who had come to see me play asked me to come home with him and treated me so good that I didn’t think about how much pain I was in. At least not every minute.”_

“Nah. Really, we’re cool. Nothing to talk about.”

Adam’s eyes searched Tommy’s again, this time filled with doubt, and it made Tommy want to pull his hair out. There were so many things on the tip of his tongue, but once again his words would have been out of context.

 _Everything’s fine with me, thanks for asking how my life is. I’m in love. You know, with someone who gave me a chance and all._

“Okay, well. Let’s get to work?”

The suggestion, posed as a question, took Tommy aback. Just minutes ago he’d seen Adam stride in like a true rock star and yell orders at one of his ‘people’ and now he was looking at Tommy like he needed permission to rehearse.

Tommy nodded, permission granted, and they got to work.

*

“You need another ballad,” Monte said, scratching his pen across one of the many sheets of music surrounding him. He gathered a few into a stack and tapped them on the floor to straighten them.

“No I don’t,” Adam argued back, drawing in a repeat sign on the last song he’d penned.

“You do. You have eleven uptempo songs here, twelve if you count The Things You Said, even though that one’s dark enough to seem like Beethoven’s fucking Fifth, man.”

Adam set down his music and rubbed at his forehead. “I have three ballads, plus the bonus track I was forced into writing. It’s a slow song. And acoustic.”

Monte threw his hands up in defense. “You said you wanted to get back to writing emotional stuff. I’m just trying to help you out.”

“It doesn’t have to be slow to be emotional.”

Monte sighed so loudly that it actually echoed around the room. “I’m not saying it has to be slow, but—”

“No, you’re just saying that everything else is unemotional.” When Monte didn’t answer, going back to concentrating on the papers in his hand instead, Adam pressed him further.

“Tell me that’s not what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, boss,” Monte answered automatically.

“You’re lying.”

“You don’t really want my opinion, so why ask for it?”

“You’re right. I don’t want it. The track list is fine.”

Adam read through the lyrics to the song in his hands, taking in a few key words, words like “club” and “party” and “sex.” He pushed them aside and looked to Monte, face drawn. “Okay, I want your opinion.”

Monte dropped his pen on the floor and turned his whole body toward Adam’s. “Every song on here is about one night stands and clubbing and the expectations of being a celebrity. Which is fun, and trendy, and goodness knows you’re going to get spins. But it’s not going to resonate with anyone past a month. And it’s certainly not going to make your reputation as an artist, or a person for that matter, any better.”

Adam leaned back as if trying to avoid the words. “Well, I did ask for your opinion.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re one of my oldest friends. I didn’t want you to hold back. I didn’t ever want anyone to hold back what they really thought around me, but…things change.” Adam’s throat constricted, and the tears stung his eyes before he even realized they had formed.

“Shit, Adam. I’m sorry.” Monte reached for him but Adam only leaned further away.

“Don’t be. I asked for your opinion. And this whole thing, it is what it is, you know? Who wants to tell a big fucking star he’s making mistakes? Who wants to try to stop him from taking a few million in exchange for his soul? Really, who’s going to be that guy?”

“Your friends,” Monte answered quietly. “The real ones anyway.”

Adam thought back to their last meeting like this, when Monte had told him the track list for Karma was complete shit and he ought to start over. Then he snorted.

“What does it matter? The big fucking star doesn’t listen anyway.”

“Listen now.”

Even through the blur of his tears, Adam could tell that Monte’s face was dead sober. “What do I do?”

“I think you ought to record some of the songs you wrote for Karma but were too chicken to put on there.”

“Jesus, you’re really going for the jugular tonight.”

Monte laughed a little. “I suppose. But it’s the truth, you know it.”

“And you know I can’t do that. Especially not now.”

“Now that he’s going to be right on stage with you when you sing them? Why not? Art requires bravery, and realism. What could be more brave, or more real, than singing songs about Tommy when he’s right there in front of you?”

Adam shook his head against Monte’s words. “I can’t. I can write others. It’ll take a few weeks to lay down tracks from what we have. By then I can have a few more ballads done.”

Monte nodded and wrote a few notes on the papers in his hands, even though the disappointed look on his face said it all. They spent a few moments in complete silence.

“He looked good,” Adam said after a while. “Happy.”

Monte pressed his lips together. “He is happy.”

“And something else too. I don’t know what to call it except that he seemed…independent, I guess. You know what I mean? He used to follow everyone around like a lost puppy, but now he’s just kind of confident or something.”

“I think what you mean to say is that he seemed over you,” Monte said bluntly. He lifted his head up from the notes he was making. “He is, by the way. Has been for a while.”

“Oh.” Relief, laced with a horrifying bit of disappointment, rushed through Adam’s body.

“Is he…I mean, is he with someone?”

“You haven’t asked about him in two years and now you want to know?”

Monte’s words made Adam feel like he’d been struck, and they stung just as much.

“It’s not that I didn’t care,” Adam said, voice barely above a whisper.

Monte’s hand found Adam’s and squeezed. “I know. Ask him yourself, though. When you’re comfortable asking. And hopefully he’ll be comfortable answering, okay?”

“Okay,” Adam answered, then cleared his throat before turning back to his music, pushing the subject and all the negativity it carried aside. “Hey, do you think I should rewrite this line about eyeliner? It seems a little campy now that I’m looking at it…”

*

As it turned out, Adam didn’t have to ask.

The next day, after getting one song finished at the studio, they all walked down the street to a no-fuss deli and grabbed a bite to eat. Isaac called up Sutan and threatened his life if he didn’t join them, which was unnecessary because as soon as Isaac mentioned that Tommy was back, Sutan was flying out the door to see his life partner.

When Sutan arrived, he and Tommy hugged each other for nearly ten minutes while everyone else made snide comments in the background. After Sutan finally sat down and the conversation returned to a more reasonable volume, Adam turned back to his track list. He concentrated on putting the songs into some kind of order for recording, based on which ones still needed time for improvements, and didn’t look up until he heard Sutan’s deep voice say, “Well, what have you been doing since you abandoned us, honey? Or, should I say, _who_?”

Tommy’s skin turned a remarkable shade of red. “I was in New York doing, well, doing nothing much. Studio work mostly. I played in a couple of bands that didn’t really go anywhere.”

Sutan’s left eyebrow shot up. “You could have done that here. Where your life partner is.”

Tommy chuckled and ran a finger up Sutan’s arm teasingly. “I’ve missed my life partner.”

“Not enough to come home,” Sutan said, pulling a pout which was way more worthy of Raja.

I never really meant to stay,” Tommy admitted. “It was just supposed to be kind of a prolonged vacation.”

Tommy’s eyes darted to Adam’s for a second, and Adam had to fight to keep himself from flinching. A prolonged vacation. An escape. A retreat. Not that Adam could blame him.

“But then you met someone, didn’t you? You slut!” Sutan guessed, eyes widening. “Come on. Don’t lie to me, Tommy Joe. What sassy lady took my place?”

Tommy laughed again but the sound, Adam noticed, didn’t resonate deep. He spoke quietly. “His name is Sam.”

And as Adam desperately tried to comprehend what Tommy had just said, Sutan almost burst into pieces from happiness.

“His?” Sutan asked, then repeated his question an octave higher. “His?? I _knew_ it! I knew all you needed was the right man and that bicuriosity of yours would turn into full-fledged gay.”

Tommy flushed an even deeper shade of red than before and looked to Isaac for help, but Isaac was leaning forward, expecting a response from Tommy too. “Not full-fledged, Sutan. Only half.”

Only Monte seemed to notice that Adam was gripping his pencil so tight his knuckles had turned white. He reached over and took the pencil from Adam’s hands, afraid it would break, and shook his head at him as if to say, “No. Not here. Calm down.”

“Oh god, don’t tell me you still like vag,” Sutan was saying, his face puckered at the mere, abhorrent thought of it.

“Well, I mean. I’m in love with Sam so it doesn’t really matter, but if I didn’t have him, dating a girl wouldn’t be out of the question,” Tommy explained with a shrug.

“Oh no no. I caught that, baby doll. You can’t just slip in a casual ‘I’m in love with Sam’ and expect me to ignore it,” Sutan said, wagging his finger and clucking at Tommy.

“Does he love you?”

“Yes.”

It was like Adam was stuck inside a box, suffocating, and the sides were being punched in all around him. He put a hand to his chest as if that could help him breathe, while Monte was shooting him panicked looks from across the table.

“Oh my god,” Sutan gushed on, clapping his hands together. “He’s the one, isn’t he? It’s written all over you face. He’s the _one_.”

Then, before Tommy answered, his gaze met Adam’s for a fraction of a second, his eyes filled with what Adam could only assume was an apology. “Yeah. I think he is.”

“You should go,” Monte said suddenly, in a voice so cutting that the whole table turned to look at him. Adam’s eyes snapped up to his, and Monte’s face was stern, his expression relaying the urgency of his message. “You need to talk to the producers before we start up again.”

Adam sent him a silent thank you back and then stood. Halfway to his feet, he realized his legs were shaking. He smiled as normally as he could at Monte and put on his sunglasses. “Come back with me?”

“Sure,” Monte answered, even though his expression was one of apprehension.

Adam didn’t speak until he heard the deli’s door shut behind them. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked forward, toward the studio, hoping his face was blank.

“Did you know?”

Monte answered from behind him, his shorter legs taking two steps to keep up with Adam’s every one. “I knew he was with someone.”

“How long?”

“How long have I known?”

“Yes.” Adam shivered, even though the March air was decently warm. “How long have you known?”

“About a month and a half. When you told me to call him and ask him back, he wasn’t sure he could, because of Sam. That’s why it took him so long to say yes. They had to sort things out.”

Adam huffed. “So, what? He had to ask permission? This…Sam dude wasn’t even going to let him come?”

“They moved across the country together—”

“Like, what? Like he owns Tommy and can dictate his life?”

“It was his life too, Adam. Sam moved so Tommy could do this.”

Adam shook his head, at what, he couldn’t say. “He didn’t have to move. He could have stayed in New York.”

“And be without Tommy for a year? Come on. It was going to be hard enough that Tommy was leaving for a few months for tour. But recording and appearances too? Be realistic.”

“I am!” Adam hissed. “I’m just trying to figure out why this guy felt the need to uproot his whole life when he could have just as easily stayed in New York. Does he think Tommy’s going to leave him for me or something? Because that’s obviously not the case. He hasn’t so much as looked at me twice since he got here.”

“And that’s just eating you up, isn’t it?”

When Adam only growled something in response, Monte grabbed his arm roughly and brought him to a halt.

“Sam and Tommy made the decision to move together because, as Tommy said in there, they’re in love and their lives are joined at this point.” Monte blew out a breath. “And I can’t say this for sure because I’ve never met the guy, but I’d wager that yeah, he’s a little threatened by you. Wouldn’t you be a little threatened by you?”

“Why? Because of my money?”

“No, Sam has plenty of that himself,” Monte said shaking his head, and that gave Adam pause.

“What do you mean, he has plenty of money?”

“It’s Sam Raines, Adam. You know, the writer?”

Sam Raines. Adam knew the name, as did most of the free world. You couldn’t walk into a Barnes and Noble without seeing a thousand of his books in big displays. He’d been on the best-seller list for years, for books that read like Hollywood blockbusters in 300 pages or less. Books packed with adventure, romance, mystery, and sometimes horror. Adam even had a few of them stashed away in his apartment, waiting to be read on long bus rides.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Trust me. It’s not your money that threatens Sam, if he’s threatened at all.” Monte gave him a half smile. “And Tommy didn’t talk about it directly but, from what I understand, he was pretty depressed when he met Sam. If you had that big of an affect on him, I bet Sam’s nervous you might again. But trust me, Adam. They’re…solid. Nothing’s coming between them.”

“And you think I want to?”

“You’re acting like it. Or, at least, you’re acting like the spoiled brat who turned down a toy, only to want it back when someone else gets to play with it.”

A muscle in Adam’s jaw flexed and twitched. All of this was beside the point. “You knew. You knew for a month and a half that he was with him. With a _man_ , Monte. Don’t you think I could have used a little warning?”

“You didn’t seem to want any. Besides, didn’t you have enough? He fucking told you—”

“He told me he thought he was in love with me. He thought. He fucking _thought_ ,” Adam snarled. “I didn’t want him figuring out that shit with me.”

“What you didn’t want was hearing him say he was wrong,” Monte snapped. “Or worse, that he was right.”

“Fuck you.”

“Tell me I’m lying.” Adam felt Monte’s eyes searching his face, though he was staring down the street. “I’m not. You know I don’t lie to you.”

“You should have told me.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tommy’s in love with Sam, not you, and you lost the chance when you had it.”

“I never had a chance, Monte. That’s what _you’re_ not getting.”

“He said he loved you.”

“He said he _might_ love me, and that wasn’t good enough.” Adam lifted up his sunglasses, revealing teary, bloodshot eyes. “Not from him. From anyone else, I could have lived with that answer. But not him, Monte. Not him.”

Monte stared at his friend for a few minutes, torn, before relenting. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Sorry I yelled,” Adam said, and pulled his sunglasses back down, effectively masking any signs of distress. Then he added, “It’s better this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s better he didn’t find this out with me. I would have been a shit boyfriend. I’m a shit person, so I can only assume I’d be the same as a boyfriend.”

“You’re still a good person inside, Adam. You just don’t show the inside very much anymore.” Monte swallowed. “Now, let’s go inside and make some music, okay?”

Adam gave a nod of his head, and they started once more toward the studio.

*

 _“He’s gone.”_

 _Adam was in the corner of a hotel room, his body folded as small as it could get inside the drably colored space, a single sheet of the hotel stationary in his hand._

 _“Tommy?” Monte asked._

 _Adam nodded, dazed. There were tears falling from his eyes onto his red cheeks, and he didn’t care enough to brush them away._

 _Monte crossed the room and removed the paper from Adam’s hand, reading over Tommy’s handwriting quickly._

 _“He told you.”_

 _“You knew?” Adam asked, lifting his head, studying Monte with dull eyes._

 _“Yeah. I guess you said no?”_

 _Adam nodded. “And he said he couldn’t be around me anymore.”_

 _Monte said nothing but knelt so that he was eye level with Adam. He didn’t hug him, but he placed a hand on each of Adam’s forearms. “Are you sure? Are you sure you shouldn’t try?”_

 _“You know how much I love him,” Adam said, and Monte nodded. He knew. He’d known it for months, like he’d known about Tommy for months. He’d watched as Adam had thrown himself at every boy who offered just to keep it off his mind. “But I’m sure. I can’t. I can’t, Monte, I just can’t…”_

 _Adam’s voice gave way to sobs, raw and wretched, that made his whole body shake and tremble. Monte held him then, until he was fast asleep on the floral duvet of the hotel bed, too exhausted to cry anymore, then he called Tommy, who didn’t pick up, but he had recorded a new message on his voicemail:_

 _“Hey, if you’re calling because you can’t find me, it’s because I don’t want you to. And if you know where I am, leave a message and I’ll call you back when I get to…wherever I’m going.”_

 _Monte didn’t leave a message._

 _*_

When Tommy entered the condo, Sam was on the floor, his feet tucked underneath the coffee table that held notebooks and pencils and a laptop, doing sit-ups.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah, it was like you wouldn’t even speak to me,” Sam chided, maintaining his pace with the sit-ups. Up, down, up, down. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?”

Tommy laughed and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it draped across a white leather couch. He watched his boyfriend’s muscles ripple as he moved, and want stirred inside Tommy, more wild and insistent with each repetition. “No. Maybe you just need some…inspiration…”

Sam instantly halted his exercise at Tommy’s suggestive tone. Tommy dropped to his knees next to Sam, pushing his boyfriend’s legs apart so that he could run a hand up his sweatpants-clad thigh.

“Mnnn, a little _inspiration_ might be just what I need…”

“You look so good like this,” Tommy murmured as he bent down and licked over Sam’s stomach.

“Sweaty and frustrated?”

“Shirtless,” Tommy said and leaned back, taking in the sight of Sam’s body. Thin but defined by hard, thick muscles, his stomach and chest were better suited to an athlete than a writer. Tommy reached out, running a hand down the dark hair that ran in a faint trail down the front of him. His hand stopped when it reached the drawstring of Sam’s pants. “Of course, I like you better completely naked…”

Sam’s fingers closed around Tommy’s wrist, stopping him. “How did it go today? And yesterday? You got home so late, I didn’t have a chance to ask.”

Before Tommy could stop himself, he pouted like an insolent child, then withdrew his hand. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” Sam asked, sitting up, Tommy still between his knees. He cupped his hands around Tommy’s face, making escape impossible.

Tommy shrugged. “He asked if I wanted to talk, and I said no, that there was no need.”

“Is that true?”

Tommy looked into Sam’s eyes, his heart twisting at the questions he saw in them. He nodded. “It’s true. There’s nothing to talk about. He’s… different now.”

“How is he different?”

Tommy closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into Sam’s warm hand. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s still Adam, but this is clearly a job now, you know? It’s business. And it’s not like he’s unhappy but… there’s something missing. That thing that made him sparkle has dulled a bit.”

“Is he jaded?”

“Maybe.” Tommy bit his lip, thinking. “More like he was just… run down. He looked tired.”

“I imagine there’s a lot he has to deal with that would make him feel run down.” Sam leaned forward and kissed Tommy squarely on the lips. “And other than being tired, how did he look?”

Tommy shrugged. “Fine.”

“How fine?”

Tommy shook his head and drew back from Sam. “Don’t. Come on, Sam. Don’t ask me that.”

Sam was insistent, unwavering in his response. “We agreed, Tommy. Truth, even if it hurts.”

Tommy closed his eyes, pausing so that he could find the right way to say exactly what he meant. “I’ll never not see him as beautiful. I can’t, because I know him too well. But…”

“But?” Sam asked, hopeful.

“But I didn’t want him when I looked at him today. He’s still beautiful, but…it didn’t make me feel anything.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Tommy answered, ignoring the nagging memory of the way his whole body had trembled when Adam came into the room the day before. Sam’s face brightened at his answer, and relief and warmth washed over Tommy. “You’re so handsome.”

Sam laughed and it echoed around the vaulted ceilings of their home. “Not beautiful?”

“Shut up,” Tommy murmured, blushing. He ran his hands up Sam’s legs again. “I gotta butter you up a little bit if I want to get you into bed before you go off typing again.”

“Nope, not so fast,” Sam said, capturing Tommy’s wandering hands and moving them away from the waistband of his pants. “You still haven’t told me about the music.”

Tommy grunted. “It’s good. Better than anything he’s ever done before. The bass parts are really fun to play. It’s gonna be a good album. Now _please_ let me get you naked.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, keeping a firm grip on Tommy’s hands as he tried to twist away. “This character’s voice suddenly got really loud in my head. I think I need to go flesh out a scene—”

“I swear, Sam. I love you. But I need you inside me _now_ and if you go off to one of your fictional characters instead of me, I will—”

Tommy’s complaints were silenced with the press of Sam’s lips against his, and his weight slowly pushing him backwards until he was pinned against the cushiony carpet. “Jealous of a fictional character, are we?”

Sam rolled his hips against Tommy’s, and pleasure spiked through Tommy’s whole body. “Maybe a little.”

Sam swiped his tongue over Tommy’s lips. “Don’t worry. I feel another erotica story coming on…”

“I feel something coming on, that’s for sure,” Tommy said, arching his back and pressing his body into Sam’s.

“So cheeky,” Sam mumbled against Tommy’s mouth. “Maybe I should go write after all.”

“Sam. _Now._ ”

“Alright, alright. I suppose the erotica can wait.”

Tommy let out a noise of frustration and nipped at the tendons in Sam’s neck. “Baby, I’m going to give you all the inspiration you need. Trust me. The voices aren’t going to shut up after this.”

“Prove it,” Sam challenged, and Tommy slipped his hand inside Sam’s sweats and did just that.

*

 _The band was horrible. They had blasphemously taken the title of a Nirvana song as their name and the lead singer was trying too hard to sound like Nickelback, but it was a gig. It was worth this week’s rent, and worth it just to perform again._

 _Tommy smiled, bobbed to the groove of his own instrument and swung his hair around for good measure. Then the singer leaned towards him, and for the most horrible second, Tommy thought he meant to kiss him. Like Adam._

 _The singer was tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, but that’s where the similarities to Adam ended. Why Tommy had made that assumption was beyond him, but worse, in that horrible second, he’d felt a demeaning twinge of hope._

 _Tommy staggered back, his fingers stumbling across the strings of his bass, the bottom falling out of the band’s sound. The singer, Nate was his name, cut him a look but continued to sing, and Tommy closed his eyes and tried to breathe. His fingers recovered before anything else, and started to pluck the strings again. A bead of sweat worked its way from Tommy’s temple to his jaw and fell to the floor. Then, Tommy finally opened his eyes._

 _He was in a dumb, shithole-in-the-wall bar with a dumb, shitty band and it had been a dumb, shitty six months and he still wanted nothing more than for Adam to kiss him._

 _Fuck his whole dumb, shitty life._

 _Then a door at the back of the bar opened and a man in a peacoat stepped in, rubbing his arms against the NYC chill. He was dark-haired and broad-shouldered too, and Tommy nearly opened his mouth to yell at him to turn around, go home, leave him alone because he’s not Adam, and he’s tired, so fucking tired, of seeing Adam in every person he looks at._

 _But he didn’t yell, and the band eventually ended their set. The final chord was still ringing in his amp as he sprinted to the bar and barked at the bartender to pour a pint of whiskey down his throat._

 _“How about this instead?”_

 _Tommy turned to his left, where the man in the peacoat was perched on a stool, pushing a glass of Sprite in his direction._

 _“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Tommy mumbled and shook his head at the offering of Sprite even as he sipped it through the straw. Then he forced himself to look at the man in the peacoat, bracing himself for the hallucination that was sure to follow._

 _But despite how he looked from the stage, the man wasn’t tall. He wasn’t big and imposing like Adam. His eyes were dark hazel, his hair a mess of curls, his face scruffy. He was younger, too, nearer to twenty than thirty, and his gaze was soft, concerned. Not forceful, not fiery, yet there was something about his gaze that made Tommy feel exposed, just like Adam’s had._

 _The Sprite stung the back of his throat and Tommy coughed, pushing the glass away like it had bit him._

 _No. This man was not like Adam. Not at all. And he needed a fucking drink._

 _“Thanks, but I think whiskey’s more my speed.”_

 _“Because you’re handling soda so well?”_

 _Tommy continued to cough and lifted shaking fingers to his temples. He saw the man watching him, studying him as if trying to analyze him, and Tommy had to bite his tongue to keep a “fuck you” from slipping out. But the man’s gaze had softened even more, the hazel of his irises seemed to swirl with new colors, and then he motioned to the bartender and two glasses of whiskey appeared in front of them._

 _“I startled you tonight. When I walked in the door. Who did you think I was?”_

 _Tommy drank down the whiskey so fast he couldn’t taste it, he only felt the burn after. “Doesn’t matter. Gonna drink that?”_

 _“Yes,” the man said, and cupped his whiskey protectively, out of Tommy’s reach. “You looked angry when I walked in. Like you wanted to tell me to fuck off. Kind of like how you look right now.”_

 _“Fucking observant, aren’t you?”_

 _“I am. I’m a writer.”_

 _“Good for you. Are all writers also incapable of taking hints?”_

 _“Is he the reason why you drink?”_

 _Tommy gritted his teeth and leaned over the bar, grabbing the bottle of Maker’s for himself. The bartender opened his mouth to protest but Tommy snarled at him, so he held up his hands in surrender and moved away. Tommy poured himself another round and slid the bottle out of the man in the peacoat’s reach._

 _“I’m sorry.”_

 _That got Tommy’s attention, and he swiveled his head to get a better look at his uninvited drinking partner. “The fuck are you sorry for?”_

 _“For startling you. If I missed someone so much that I had to drink just to keep my hands from shaking, I certainly wouldn’t want to mistake someone else for him.”_

 _“You don’t look a fucking thing like him.”_

 _The man narrowed his eyes, the colors in them still swimming. They were really kind of pretty, even if they weren’t blue. Kind of like honey and chocolate and the greenish gray of evergreens, all in a mosaic around his pupils._

 _“Good,” he said, and something about the way the man said it, almost smug, pissed Tommy off more than anything else he’d done._

 _Tommy pushed himself up and away from the bar, not even intending to thank the man for the drink, but then he saw the man’s grip relax around his glass. Then his other hand reached out and brought the glass to his lips. He finished off the whiskey in one practiced gulp and pushed the glass towards the bartender, his gaze stubbornly fixed on anything but Tommy._

 _His hands trembled so badly he could barely keep the glass steady._

 _“Another,” he said, and the bartender nodded and poured him more, giving him a sympathetic smile._

 _“Go easy tonight, Sam,” the bartender cautioned before moving on, and Tommy felt himself sink back onto the stool._

 _“Your hands shake.”_

 _The man nodded and continued to stare into his whiskey._

 _“I’m Tommy.”_

 _“Samson.” Samson picked up his glass and downed the second shot. Then he finally lifted his eyes to Tommy. This time Tommy didn’t notice their unusual colors or the softness of them, but how bloodshot they were, and how dark circles bloomed under them like bruises._

 _“Do I look like him?”_

 _Samson snorted and said, “You don’t look a fucking thing like him.”_


	3. Return

The music piping through the gigantic speakers in the club seemed to pinch Adam’s throat with every vicious drum beat. He sat at the bar, nursing a drink that was suspiciously neon blue, and Sutan was beside him, sipping from a twin drink while somehow also dancing from the waist up.

“He’s cute, don’t you think?”

Sutan’s words brought Adam’s attention back to the one place he didn’t want it: Tommy. Tommy, and that man out there with him.

They were celebrating the first complete recording, even though it wasn’t really an achievement. They’d spent three whole days trying to get the track right. In between the lack of practice time, Adam’s newfound paranoid perfectionism, and Monte and Tommy’s constant suggestions, they were moving at the speed of sloth. The execs were not happy, to say the least, but now they had one done. Now they’d found their rhythm, and from now on it would roll.

What Adam hadn’t counted on when he’d invited his friends out to a new club, was Tommy calling that man and asking him to join them.

And now that man was wrapped up in a whole lot of Tommy on the dance floor.

“He’s handsome, I guess,” Adam said, though handsome didn’t quite cover it.

Last night Adam had actually opened one of Sam Raines’ bestsellers out of curiosity. This particular one was about a scientist who had moved to a small New England coastal town to study tortoises or something. Adam had rolled his eyes reading the jacket copy.

But then he’d read the first page and became entranced. It took him only two hours to read about how Harrison Michaels had found the love of his life on his mission by the sea, and how the awkward relationship between two men grew into friendship, and then smoldering romance.

And there had been storms. And boats. And lighthouses. And turtles, for fuck’s sake. How could anyone NOT like that kind of story?

And the worst part of it was that it wasn’t gimmicky. It wasn’t Danielle Steel or Nicholas Sparks. It wasn’t melodramatic and rife with clichés. Instead, it had just been a beautiful, subtle love story, woven with perfect words and glowing prose.

Fuck this Sam Raines. He could have at least had the decency to suck.

Then Adam had turned to the back cover and inspected the picture of Sam. He’d forced himself to look at it and try to see what, if anything, Tommy saw in him. Sam was young on the cover, probably no more than twenty-two or twenty-three. He’d been posed in that ridiculously stiff manner that all authors seem to choose for their bio pictures, the one that tried to look casual and yet brilliant all at once. Sam was sitting on stairs, thick reading glasses in his hand, pressed to his temple, head angled like a Sears family portrait. He was clean shaven, wearing the type of corduroy blazer most history professors preferred, and khakis with a perfect crease down the middle of each leg.

Adam had been unimpressed. Sam was decent looking, he supposed, if only in that introverted, slightly nerdy kind of way. He certainly wasn’t anything that would have made his pulse race.

Except that he was.

The man Tommy was dancing with looked nothing like that picture. He wasn’t even remotely geeky. Thick black curls fell all around his head in a way that begged for a laurel wreath and immortalization by a Greek sculptor, his strong jaw line was shadowy with a sexy few days’ growth of a beard, his lips were full and salmon-colored, and when he threw his head back and laughed at something Tommy had said, thick cords of muscle glistened in his neck, under taut skin and shimmering sweat.

Fuck.

“Handsome?” Sutan scoffed. “Please. Boyfriend is hot as shit. And he’s got that cute, boyish thing going when he laughs, you know what I mean?”

Adam did know what Sutan meant. Tommy had that too.

“And Christ, look at that body… He can move. Look at that,” Sutan continued, absently sucking on the maraschino cherry from his drink. Adam didn’t want to think about Sam’s body, or the way he moved, though it was virtually impossible to ignore in the skin-tight gray shirt he was wearing, not to mention the way he and Tommy were practically having sex on the dance floor. “Tommy’s found a keeper, for sure. Shit, he probably quotes love poetry when they’re doing it. He looks like a poet. Or royalty. Yeah, like, a prince from some exotic country. He’s totally the type to have little birds and squirrels sing to him when he goes into the woods, isn’t he?”

“Jesus fuck, Sutan. Can you stop talking?”

Sutan wrinkled his nose, set his drink on the bar, and folded his hands prettily in his lap. “Well, someone’s turned into a green-eyed monster.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Please. Not only did Tommy Joe find an incredibly hot guy right out of the gay gate, that guy is also _not_ you.” Adam felt Sutan lean closer, his cheekbone pressing against his. “Sorry, baby. We all thought Tommy would pick you when the time came. We were hoping for it.”

Adam’s gut twisted sharply at those words. They’d been rooting for it. His friends had hoped for it. If only Sutan knew, if only all of them knew, how close they’d come and yet how infinitely far away they’d been.

But then the music changed and Adam searched for Tommy again in the crowd. He was nodding to his boyfriend, smiling, and Sam went in one direction and Tommy went in another.

“Tommy!” Sutan called out, waving, and Tommy’s eyes lit up. He propelled himself into Sutan’s arms as if they hadn’t just seen each other ten minutes ago. Sutan’s lips smacked against Tommy’s cheek. “You look good out there. Too good.”

Tommy laughed, breathless, and kissed Sutan back. “It’s all Sam. I just copy what he does.”

“Going to introduce us?”

As loud as the club was, Adam’s voice cut through all of it. Tommy’s eyes snapped, up, bright and panicked. “Oh,” he said, nodding slowly. “Sure. Let me find him.”

Tommy disappeared into the throng to retrieve his boyfriend, just long enough for Sutan to lean in close and say, “You’re happy for him that he’s found someone,” in a way that wasn’t at all an observation or question, but a command.

Then Tommy was back, his hand locked with Sam’s. Adam didn’t even try to hide the long, scrutinizing look he passed over Sam, head to toe.

Up close he looked even younger, masculine but sweet all the same, and when he smiled he revealed a row of slightly crooked teeth. The overall effect had Adam’s heart sinking and Sutan sighing next to him.

“Hiya, handsome,” Sutan said, extending his hand as if he was a queen, waiting for a ring to be kissed. “I’m Sutan.”

“Ah, the life partner,” Sam said, and his voice took Adam aback. He’d imagined it high-pitched, mousy even. But it was rich and mellow and robust. “Glad to finally meet you.”

“And this is Adam,” Sutan said, playing hostess. Sam met Adam’s eye, his face expressionless, a smile firm on his lips. His hand was smooth, his grip firm.

“Of course. Thanks for inviting Tommy back. He really missed playing with the band.”

Adam swallowed. Talk about calculated words. Not only had Sam managed to remind him that he hadn’t actually been the one to invite Tommy back, he’d added the extra sting of specifying that Tommy missed the band. Not Adam, the BAND.

“He’s the best,” Adam said in return, gripping Sam’s hand as hard back. “So you’re a writer?”

“A writer!” Sutan snorted. “Yeah, Adam. Just like you’re a singer. Jesus. Nicole Kidman was in a movie based on one of his books. He’s Sam Fucking Raines.”

“Okay, sorry,” Adam said and gave Sam an apologetic smile. “So you’re a really famous, lucrative writer?” he amended.

Sam laughed, playful and charming, and Adam couldn’t help but notice the way Tommy smiled back at him dreamily. “Lucrative, sure. Famous, not so much. I’ll leave the paparazzi to you.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Adam joked back and then the conversation paused. Adam said the first thing he could think of to fill the gap. “I see your name every time I’m in a Barnes and Noble, so you must be good.”

“And I hear your music every time I switch on a radio, so likewise,” Sam said politely.

“Oh god, Karma?” Sutan asked, cackling, his face buried in yet another blue drink.

“Um, I think?” Sam said. “The one with all the sitars in the background?” Then he turned to Adam and shrugged. “Sorry I don’t know the name. I’m really more into the indie scene.”

The way he said it came out like an insult, and Adam took it as one. “That’s okay. I’m sure your books aren’t for everyone either.”

Sutan let out a horrified gasp. “You mean you’ve never read Sam’s work? Even the erotica?”

“No, sorry,” Adam lied.

“God, you have to. So much better than porn,” Sutan went on and Sam flushed.

“Thanks. I get lots of inspiration in that department.”

Sam looked back at Tommy, reaching for his hand. It was all Adam could do not to throw up right on everyone’s shoes.

“I want to dance,” he said brightly instead, then turned toward Tommy. “Want to dance?”

Tommy’s smile faltered and he looked at Sam. Sam merely laughed. “What are you looking at me for? Go dance with your friend.”

 _Friend._

Adam could give the writer one thing, he certainly had a knack for choosing words. But then it didn’t matter because Tommy was taking his hand and they were moving into the gyrating mass of humanity at the center of the club, and then Tommy was in his arms.

Adam’s hands slid around to the small of Tommy’s back, one of his favorite parts of Tommy because it seemed so thin but so strong at the same time. There was a brief moment where Tommy tensed, leaned away, and he sought out Sam’s face in the crowd. But Sam was sitting with Sutan, the two men were laughing, and Tommy relaxed.

“He seems…nice,” Adam said. They moved slowly, slower than the dance music called for.

“He’s amazing,” Tommy replied.

“I’m sure. He’s a little more studious than I’d pictured for you, but then, I’d always pictured you with a girl too, so what do I know?”

Adam felt Tommy heave out a breath. “You cannot act like this is a surprise.”

“No. I can’t. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.” Tommy relaxed in his arms again, and Adam held him tighter. This time he was the one flicking his eyes over to the bar. Now Sam was watching with interest, back rigid, knuckles white on his knees. “You love him?”

“Yes.”

“He treats you well?”

“Too well. He spoils me.”

They were silent again for a while, swaying not to the beat of the music but to something greater. Then Tommy spoke.

“I was sorry to hear about you and Sauli.”

He mispronounced ‘Sauli,’ rhyming it with folly. Adam was almost sure it wasn’t on purpose. “Wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Everything was going to shit then, anyway. Might as well have included relationships too.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Tommy said, but it didn’t ring true to Adam’s ears. Several times after Sauli had left him, he’d picked up the phone to call Tommy and hear a friendly voice, but then he’d remembered that Tommy hadn’t left so much as an email address, let alone a number.

“Sure,” Adam said in return, and Tommy pulled back to look him in the eye.

“I am. I’m sorry I couldn’t be your friend then. I’m sorry I was so messed up about everything. I’m sorry—”

“Shhh…Don’t. Let’s don’t.” Adam pulled Tommy back into his arms, holding him close. He felt Sam’s stare on him, boring into the back of his skull. “Does he know?”

“Everything.”

Adam nodded. Well, that explained quite a bit. “He really does seem great.”

Tommy dropped his head on Adam’s shoulder again and said nothing in return, so Adam spoke once more.

“I really want to be friends again, Tommy. If that means we’ve got to argue this out or get into it, then that’s what I want us to do.”

Tommy pushed him away, not roughly but with force, and Adam found himself stepping backwards into other dancers.

“We don’t need to talk, Adam. I was in love with you. Now I’m in love with Sam. That’s it. That’s all there is.” Tommy’s face was red, blotchy, his jaw set. “So I don’t need to talk. Do you, Adam? Is there something you need to say to me?”

Adam paused. He had a strange, dizzy feeling, like his head was too heavy for his body, and he suddenly realized he couldn’t hear the music right anymore. It was just discordant thumps and beeps.

 _I wanted it, I wanted US. I wanted to be sure you really loved me as much as I loved you._

The words were there, stuck in his throat, but then Sam was by Tommy’s side, lacing his fingers through his boyfriend’s, his expression concerned and loving. “Hey, M, let’s go home. You look tired.”

Tommy let himself be pulled into Sam’s embrace, but he didn’t take his eyes off Adam. He continued to stare expectantly.

“No. There’s nothing,” Adam heard himself say. Then he twisted his face into a smile, which he turned on Sam. “Make sure he gets some sleep. We’re going to work our asses off tomorrow.”

And as Adam turned to go, he heard Sam say to his back, “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”

*

Rehearsal was not going well, to say the least.

Adam had booked the Zodiac theater for their practice time, thinking that the familiarity of the space and the fact that it wasn’t the studio might prompt all of them to get some serious, creative work done. And while it was true that they were all working quite creatively, they weren’t working together at all. Cam tugged the band one way, Isaac another, and both Monte and Tommy seemed particularly at odds with Adam’s vocals.

After about an hour of practicing a particular song, Adam stopped singing, took a deep breath and waited for the band to stop playing, then said, “You know, this is my fucking album.”

“Yeah, and I’m you’re fucking music director,” Monte grumbled.

Adam’s nostrils flared and he gripped his microphone tight, ready to snarl back at his so-called music director when Tommy’s voice beat him to it.

“Still his album, Pittman. How about you back off on the recycled Madonna riffs and listen to what _he_ wrote.”

“You haven’t exactly helped matters, Tommy,” Cam cut in. “Pick a fucking style.”

“Sorry if I’ve been trying to find a medium between his vocals and Monte’s nonsense for the last hour. I’m doing what I fucking can.” Tommy let his bass hang from its strap and crossed his arms, looking to Adam. “Tell us what you want, Adam. It’s your song. Tell us what to do with it.”

Adam lifted a hand to his forehead and squeezed, running through the song in his mind. “Think more IAMX than Scissor Sisters. Go dark. More synth, less guitar, and a shit ton of bass. And Isaac, just stay out of the way.”

“There. Finally. Something we can work with. Sing it,” Tommy said, and Adam wanted to slap him for it. The whole thing made him feel inadequate, like he wasn’t capable of keeping a band together and giving direction. Worst of all it was coming from Tommy, a guy who two years before would only have said these things to Adam in private, and only when he’d finally worked himself up to thinking it was important enough to be said.

A lot had changed about Tommy in the two years they’d spent apart, and Adam wasn’t sure he liked this change at all.

Or maybe Tommy hadn’t changed at all. Maybe it was just that no one had bothered to tell Adam what to do in years and he wasn’t used to that anymore.

“That’s all fine and good but we’re not going to be anywhere near studio ready by tomorrow. I need to make a phone call.”

Adam slammed his mic back into the holder and pulled out his cell. The Powers That Be were not going to be happy.

He was fifteen minutes in to a pattern of arguing and boot-licking the label when the back door of the theater opened up, and a shank of daylight burst through the blackness of the house before going dark again.

Adam kept talking but watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam made his way down the aisle and hopped up on stage. He watched just long enough to see Sam take Tommy’s face in his hands and kiss him deep enough to taste his breakfast, then looked away.

He concentrated on the snippy voice in his ear and then interrupted it. “Look, Nigel. I can do this right, but that’s going to take time. If I rush this, we’re going to have another Karma on our hands…Yes that’s a bad thing. That’s not what I want to do again… God, why don’t you just say it, Nigel? Why don’t you just tell me you think I need scandal to sell? Tell me you’d like to see me shave off all my hair and go to rehab. If you want I can start throwing around words like ‘winning’ or ‘tiger blood’ too. How about a nice mug shot for cocaine possession? No? Then let me do this. My way.”

Adam risked another glance over to Tommy, where he was bent towards his boyfriend, whispering. With a nod, Sam took off and disappeared into the daylight again. Adam felt his ears burn.

“This is not going to be a vapid, commercial album, Nigel. But I promise it will be successful.”

That seemed to calm Nigel down, as the nasal, snooty voice on the other end of the line relented. Adam then had to explain himself to three more label execs before he could finally get off the phone. He turned to his band, not sure of what to say. He wanted to tell him how strange it was to feel powerless when he was looked at as one of the most powerful men in the business. Maybe he wanted to apologize a bit, too, for not being that. Or maybe for acting like it when he knew he wasn’t. He didn’t know; he wasn’t sure anymore.

“They’re moving the schedule around. We’ve got more time to get this right.”

“I was a dick. I’m sorry.” Adam looked over at Monte, who shrugged and tried to smile. “Tommy’s right. Tell us what you want for everything. We’ll make it work.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. Let’s just talk for a while, guys. Everyone have a copy of the track list?”

His band grabbed their copies from their various music stands and gathered in a semi-circle around him, pencils ready to take notes. It was then that the back door opened one more time.

Adam didn’t even look over his shoulder from his sitting position on the stage. He looked to Tommy instead.

“I was hungry,” Tommy said, his pale skin darkening with a blush. “Sam went to find food.”

Adam grimaced. He was starving too, but he hadn’t given a thought to his hunger or to his band’s comfort. He was used to going without. Most of the time on purpose.

Sure enough, Sam had three bags filled with food dangling from his arms when he jumped up on the stage. Adam turned back to Tommy, brow raised.

Tommy just grinned. “Burritos, of course.”

Adam laughed. He should have known. The little stand around the corner was just about Tommy’s favorite place on earth. Sam came over and kissed the top of Tommy’s head before flashing his adorable boy-smile at the band. “I come bearing food.”

To everyone’s surprise – and delight – Sam hadn’t just randomly selected a few things off the menu, he’d somehow managed to snag their favorites. He handed out overstuffed burritos, wrapped in foil labeled with their names to the matching recipients.

When Sam held a burrito in front of Adam’s nose, Adam hesitated. “I really shouldn’t.”

Sam’s eyes were soft. “The guy that made it said this was a special, under three-hundred calorie burrito that he only makes for you.” Sam waved the burrito in his face. “Come on. Whole wheat tortilla, light on the cheese, minimal rice.”

Adam relented, taking the burrito with a shrug. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Sam jumped off the stage and went to the second row of seats, where he began to rifle through a leather messenger bag. Adam watched him pull out a laptop and sink into a chair with it, balancing it on his knees while unwrapping his burrito. It was such a curious thing to do – anti-social and sudden. He looked over at Tommy in question.

Tommy just rolled his eyes and whispered, “He can write anywhere.”

Adam watched Sam type for a whole minute before jumping off the stage and plopping himself down in the chair next to him.

Sam didn’t seem to notice for a while, then finally he turned an unfocused gaze toward Adam. “Sorry. M’s so inspiring when he’s working. Or you know, when he’s supposed to be working.”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard you call him that. What’s M?”

Sam’s eyes twinkled like he was sharing some great secret. “Muse. He’s my muse. I jokingly said it once and the expression on Tommy’s face… Well, let’s just say I call him that every chance I get now.”

Adam nodded. His imagination kicked in, and for a moment he saw what Tommy’s home must be like, with Tommy’s music drifting through the air, accompanied by the steady click of Sam’s fingers on the keys of his laptop, the two of them occasionally emerging from their artistic neverlands to ask for the other’s opinion.

The jealousy was swift and devastating. Adam tried to refocus.

“Can I pay you back for the food?”

Sam once again tore his eyes from the screen, his thick brows coming together on his forehead. “What? No.”

“You bought my whole band food.”

“Tommy was hungry,” Sam said by way of explanation.

“Yeah, which is my fault. I should have known.”

“It’s okay. Really. I don’t mind buying lunch for Tommy’s friends.” The corner of Sam’s mouth curled up. “Besides, it’s pocket change for guys like us, right? Don’t sweat it.”

Guys like us. Huh.

Adam had pocketed a shit ton of money from the poptastic and utterly impersonal Karma and its subsequent tour, but he’d done a bit of research on Sam’s finances lately and he doubted that their idea of “pocket change” was truly the same. While they could both afford Maseratis, Sam was the one who could also buy them for all his friends.

“Yeah. I can always sell one of my four houses if I’m that hard up for cash.”

Sam’s eyes snapped into focus. “Four? Damn. I only have three.”

Though Adam was completely joking – he only owned one house, thank you very much, and he didn’t actually own it, it was a rental – Sam was not.

“Three?” Adam asked. “One here, one in New York, and…?”

“Well, two and a half,” Sam amended. “The condo here is a lease. But yeah, our place in New York, and I own a house in Yellow Springs, Ohio, where Tommy and I hope to retire some day, although that would mean kicking out a few of my friends who have sort of turned it into an artist retreat.”

Retire together. Again, Adam lost himself in a painful fantasy of Sam and Tommy, now old, living out their remaining years in a quaint little cottage somewhere in Ohio.

“Adam…”

Adam shook the fantasy from his head and looked over at Sam. Sam’s expression was serious now, his hazel eyes had darkened to nearly brown.

“As I understand it, New York is our home and will continue to be our home. If that’s not the case, if Tommy and I are mistaken that this is not just a one-time, play-the-tour thing and we should look for something a little more…permanent here in L.A., please let me know.”

Adam cast a glance to the stage, where Tommy and Isaac were trying to make Cam laugh so hard she’d spit out her food. He turned back to Sam.

“I want Tommy to play for me as long as he can. Not just this tour, but every record and tour after that.”

Sam’s face didn’t change, but his eyes dulled a bit. He nodded and took a bite of his burrito, thinking. Finally, he mumbled, “I’ll start looking for a place, then.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were quite settled in New York.”

“Plans are made to be changed,” Sam said. “So if you hear of anything, say a four or five bedroom in an uppity, posh neighborhood, let me know.”

“Four or five bedrooms?” Adam asked, not comprehending why they’d need all that room for the two of them.

“I know,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Tommy wants a boy and a girl, but I think we’d be just fine with one. The boy. I can’t raise a girl. I have no idea what I’m doing with girls.”

Children. Sam was talking children. Children with Tommy.

The revelation settled so heavily on Adam’s chest that he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He looked down, focusing on anything to keep his mind from drifting into uncomfortable fantasies again, and that’s when he saw a glint of silver. He squinted, looking closer.

Sam was wearing a wedding band.

Jesus. How did he miss that? How did he miss one on Tommy’s finger? Why didn’t anyone tell him?

The weight on his chest morphed and spread, making his whole body feel tight, coiled. His throat tensed, his skin broke out in a rash of deep red, the tips of his fingers went numb.

Adam knew this feeling. He was having a panic attack.

“You okay?” Sam asked next to him, concerned. But then the opening chords of Fever screamed out from Monte’s guitar and Adam could almost feel his blood pressure lowering.

He looked up and caught Tommy’s eye almost immediately. Tommy tugged his long bangs behind his ear and smiled at him, shy and sweet, and the thumping heart inside Adam’s chest slowed. Then Tommy winked at him and stood up, grabbing his bass to join Monte on the song.

“This is your song, isn’t it? Yours and Tommy’s?” Sam said, his voice level but not bright.

Adam kept his eyes on Tommy, watching as he danced around with his bass. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

“Doing this one on the tour?” This time there was an edge of worry in Sam’s voice.

“It is a crowd favorite,” Adam said in answer. He waited until his body felt completely back to normal before turning back to Sam. “Listen, about this song…”

“The fanservice.”

“Yes. I want to know if it’s okay.”

“Tommy doesn’t need my permission for anything he does.”

“I know, but I don’t want to mess anything up between the two of you.” Adam hoped he sounded sincere, but he kind of doubted it.

“It won’t,” Sam answered. The statement was so matter-of-fact that it made Adam bristle. “Is it really necessary?”

“My fans expect it. And with Tommy being back after so long, they’re practically demanding it.”

“And do you always do what your fans expect?”

Adam was taken aback. “I…no. I mean…no. Not really.”

“If I wrote only what my fans wanted me to write, I’d be writing four-hundred page orgies. Which would satisfy them for all of two weeks before they’d get pissed at me for being predictable.” Sam turned his body in the seat so that he was completely facing Adam. “Keeping their attention isn’t about giving them what they want, Adam. It’s about giving them what they don’t know they want, and giving it to them so well that they thank you for it. As an artist you should know that.”

Adam let out a breath, frustrated. He didn’t appreciate the lecture. “I know that. This album will be unlike anything they’ve heard.”

“And it’s good music?”

“Yes,” Adam practically growled.

“Then why do you feel the need to dress it up in gimmicks?”

“I don’t…” Adam’s balled his hands into fists and kept them firmly on his knees. “That’s not…”

No matter what sentence he tried to put together, nothing felt good enough. It was as if his brain was paralyzed, struck from the shock of being criticized so thoroughly by someone he barely knew – a stupid, pretentious jerk of a writer who knew nothing about the industry, nothing about music. Nothing about HIM.

But he was the stupid, pretentious jerk that Tommy was in love with. And he wasn’t stupid at all. A pretentious jerk, that was for sure, but he was as intelligent as they come.

A really smart, pretentious jerk. Who had bought them all lunch.

Adam pressed his hands to his temples and fought the urge to scream.

“I don’t mean to frustrate you, Adam. I’m just trying to figure out why you think it’s necessary to make out with my boyfriend onstage.”

Adam refused to be bested. “This is why I asked. If it bothers you that much, we won’t do it. I just wanted to run it by you, in case it happened one night onstage organically, like it usually did on our first tour. My music doesn’t need gimmicks. Believe it or not, most of the time we weren’t thinking of the fans at all.”

Sam stared at him, his fingers flexing to straight lines over the keys of his laptop. Then he looked away, saying, “Tommy’s coming. Ask him yourself.”

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Tommy sat in the row of seats in front of them, turning around to see them. His expression was anxious, his face pale. Adam didn’t remember the music stopping, but he had to wonder if Tommy had seen the tension on his face or Sam’s from the stage.

“Having a wonderful chat with Adam,” Sam said, his smile pinched.

“Yes. Your boyfriend is so easy to talk to.” Adam looked over Tommy’s head at the stage, because looking at him would have revealed too much. “I was actually asking him about the fanservice.”

Tommy let out a whooshing breath before saying, “Oh. And?”

“I told him to ask you because you don’t need my permission,” Sam said. He shut his laptop and looked at his boyfriend, expectant.

Tommy appeared to be struggling, looking at Sam, then Adam, then Sam again as if trying to garner some clue as to what his answer should be. Then his gaze fell permanently on Adam, and he shook his head.

“I know it doesn’t mean anything onstage, Adam,” Tommy began, and Adam had to wonder if he’d learned how to pick his words so carefully from his boyfriend, “but I can’t. I just don’t feel right about it.”

That was all the answer Adam needed. He nodded and rose from his seat, feeling like a surrendering soldier as he said, “I know a good real estate agent. I’m sure she can find something big enough for you.”

Adam walked mechanically to the stage, feeling the weight of Sam and Tommy’s stares on his back. He hopped up on the stage, took his microphone from the stand, and turned to Monte.

“Let’s go. We need to work.”

“Don’t you want to talk through the songs first?” Monte asked, concerned.

Adam shook his head. “I really just want to sing right now, okay?”

Monte nodded, reading his mind. “How about The Things You Said?”

“Perfect.”

But Monte didn’t let him off the hook so easily. He leaned in toward Adam, pushing the microphone down low between them so their voices wouldn’t be amplified. “Everything okay? Looked like you and Sam were having an intense conversation.”

“He’s a smart fucker.”

Monte grunted in agreement. “Too smart. Though I bet Neil could put him in his place.”

Adam smiled at that, though he had his doubts. Then his smile fell. “Are they married? Did Tommy marry him in New York?” Monte shook his head, but it wasn’t enough of an answer for Adam. “But Sam wears a ring.”

“God, Adam, you really don’t know?” When Adam didn’t answer that, Monte took a deep breath and whispered, “You really need to have an actual conversation with Tommy. There’s a reason why he and Sam found each other.”

“Don’t be fucking cryptic, Monte. Just tell me.”

Monte shook his head. “I can’t tell you this. Just ask him. Or if you don’t have the guts, look it up. I’ve heard Google can answer almost any question. Especially ones about celebrities. Even the author kind.”

Google. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Adam lifted the microphone in front of his face, beckoned his band to join him for a song, and tried like hell to put the burning questions out of his mind long enough to be productive.

*

Tommy gazed down at the first picture on the pile, the pile he'd taken from Sam's closet earlier. Sam hadn't ever bothered to put his photos in any sort of order, never mind an album. Tommy spread himself out on the bed, paused to make sure he could still hear Sam clicking away at his laptop, and settled in.

The first picture was just of Sam, his arms thrown around a giant rubber banana at some theme park. He was wearing heart-shaped pink sunglasses and his tongue, which he stuck out at the camera, was stained blue. Tommy snickered, silently called his boyfriend a dork, and moved to the next picture in the pile.

This was taken on the same day, as the date in the right bottom corner indicated. In this picture, Sam's arms were around a boy, not a banana, and he was kissing that boy on the cheek. On the other side of the boy was a girl, her strawberry blonde hair streaked with blue. Meg. Tommy knew Meg well; he'd been introduced to her only a few weeks into his relationship with Sam. She was Sam's best friend, and although she no longer had the blue streak in her hair, she looked pretty much the same then as she did now. And the boy...

Tommy felt his chest constrict.

The boy was Landon, Sam's only boyfriend. Sam's future husband. Sam's deceased husband.

Tommy swallowed and turned the picture over, moving on to the next. This one was taken at Sam's home in Ohio, their home. Tommy had taken it himself. Sam stood between his parents, Allen and Gina, looking embarrassed as hell. Behind them, their friend Cameron was mixing up a giant pitcher of margaritas as their other friend, Jamie, poured in a healthy dose of tequila. Tommy giggled. Later that night he'd asked Sam's parents to tell him nearly every humiliating moment of Sam's life. To Sam's horror, they'd drunkenly obliged.

"Hey."

Tommy jumped, startled, and turned to see Sam leaning against the door frame, watching him. "Hi. I dragged out pictures. You know, you should really think about at least putting these in some kind of order."

Sam snorted and pushed himself off the door frame, joining Tommy on the bed. He lifted up the picture of him with Meg and Landon at the theme park and smiled at it. "God. This was when we were sophomores in college. Landon and I were home for the summer, so we took Meg to Cedar Point. Landon loved roller coasters and Meg, well, you know how she is. If it's not dangerous, why bother? And of course I'm not great with heights so they had to drag me on everything."

Sam put the picture aside and took the remaining pile from Tommy.

"You're right. I should at least put them in order," Sam said, and turned to the next picture. This one was of Sam and Meg again, but this time, instead of Landon, the third party was Tommy. Sam and Meg were both kissing Tommy on the cheek, and Tommy's face was frozen in a look of mock disgust. "You know, we really should invite Meg out here. She'd get a kick out of L.A."

Tommy laughed and took the picture from Sam's hands, studying it. Sam studied him. "What are you thinking?"

Tommy shrugged, not taking his eyes off his own face. "It's just weird, sometimes. I look at him and see myself there, or I look at a picture of us and see him there instead. I mean, I’m not saying that we’re interchangeable I just…I don’t know. I’m not making sense.”

“You are,” Sam said. He smiled down at the picture in Tommy’s hands. “You fit in my life the same way. He was my biggest joy, he was the reason I did anything. Now you are.”

Tommy set the picture aside and picked up the one of Sam with Landon again. “I love the way you look at him in these.” Sam said nothing to that, and Tommy went on. “Do you think we’d be friends?”

At that, Sam let out a burst of surprised laughter. “Tommy, he’d have fallen in love with you, then where would the three of us have been?”

“No he wouldn’t have. Landon was totally yours, even I can see that in these pictures.” But Tommy grinned. “Really? You think he would have?”

“Oh yeah. He loved the blond rocker type.”

“Ha. Maybe we could have all lived together. One big happy family. I think I would have been okay with that, since you loved him too.” Tommy watched as Sam’s eyes grew distant. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Sam said. Then, after a moment, he stretched out next to Tommy. “Adam seemed surprised today when I mentioned we’d need a big place. You haven’t told him much about us, have you?”

“I haven’t told him much at all,” Tommy admitted. “He hasn’t really seemed interested in talking to me.”

Sam kept his gaze on Tommy’s face. “He said this wasn’t just a one-shot deal.”

Tommy propped himself up on an elbow. “What wasn’t?”

“This. The gig. He wants you on other tours, future tours. He said I should find a place for us here.”

“Oh.” Tommy let that sink in and watched as the statement began to topple over other things in his mind’s eye like dominoes. “Well, I don’t have to. We can keep our plans. We can still go back to New York after the tour and get married. He may have said that, but I only signed the contract for this tour.”

“We can stay, Tommy.”

Tommy blinked at Sam. “But New York is our home.”

“New York, but also Ohio, and here. This is your home.”

“But Meg—”

“Meg’s in no rush, and even then, there’s always adoption.” Sam raised himself up on his elbow too, and kissed Tommy gently. “But whatever you decide, I don’t want to wait to get married. When we put it off to move here I was okay with that because I thought it would only be a few months. I don’t want to wait until after the next tour, Tommy. I want to marry you now.”

Tommy’s stomach fluttered. He closed his eyes, smiling. “I don’t want to wait either. Right after the tour, then. No matter what.”

“Right after the tour.”

Tommy rolled back over on his stomach and looked again at Landon’s face in the photo.

“Tommy?”

Tommy raised his eyes to Sam.

“Did you want to say yes?”

He didn’t have to ask what Sam meant. “I don’t want to kiss him, Sam. It’s not that. But the crowd reaction to it…that high…” Tommy felt a little woozy just remembering it. “I imagine it’s what you feel like every time you get a good review, or write the last sentence of a long novel.”

Sam nodded. “That’s addictive, that feeling.”

“Very.” Tommy paused, thinking, then asked, “Did you want to tell him no?”

“Yes,” Sam answered right away, honestly. “But hearing you say it was so much better.”

Tommy smiled, and Sam smiled back, then Sam stood up and kissed the top of his head. “I need to get back to a scene. It’s not coming out the way I want it to.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “Read it to me when you’re done?”

“Of course.”

Sam left him, and Tommy stared at the pile of photos in front of him for a minute before getting to work. Within an hour he had them in chronological order as best he could. Tommy flipped through them, watching Sam’s life pass by with each photo. They started with Sam in high school, with Meg and Landon by his side. Sam’s face changed a bit. It lost a bit of boyishness and gained the ruggedness it had now, but his expression stayed the same through the years. He seemed perpetually happy. His eyes, his smile – he looked always as if he was floating, so in love and weightless that gravity no longer mattered.

But the pictures changed around Sam’s senior year of college. There was a touch of fear in Sam’s eyes, even when he was smiling, and Landon’s face was getting thinner, his eyes growing more tired with each photo.

There were a few more pictures from that year. A picture of Sam the day his first book made it to the bestseller list. One of Landon hanging up an ugly, homemade ornament on their bedraggled Christmas tree. A handful from their wedding, the ones Gina had taken, as the professional ones were all in a safety deposit box somewhere in Ohio, except for the few Sam had in his office.

Then there weren’t any pictures for about a year.

Then there were some of Meg, then even more, all of these with Tommy.

“You fit in my life the same way,” Sam had said. Tommy looked at the way Sam was gazing at him in the last photo, one they’d taken on Sam’s last birthday, right before Christmas. Tommy had made him a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer out of old clothes pins, like the ones he’d had to make in grade school. Sam was laughing at the pathetic ornament, probably teasing him for it, but still managing to look at him as if Tommy was his whole world.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he did fit the same way.

*

“Okay.” Tommy watched Adam inhale slowly, then push all the air out, his cheeks puffing. “Let’s maybe try it again from the second verse? Maybe punch up the distortion a bit, Monte?”

Monte nodded and adjusted the dials on his amp and they were ready. At Monte’s count they took off, driving through the sizzling second verse of a song Adam was calling “Mesmerize” for now.

The song was hard, edgy, sexually aggressive. It was the old Adam’s prowess with a twist of darkness, and the bass line wrapped itself in a coil inside Tommy’s stomach, like a dangerous snake waiting to strike. Tommy played it out, let it unravel, let the beat work through him. It undulated, writhed, begged for release.

Adam’s voice only pushed those feelings to the breaking point. Even though this was just a rehearsal, Adam was performing. He moaned out the words, his voice desperate and aching, filling everyone around him with that same ache. Tommy watched him throw his head back, sweat glistening on the skin of his neck, muscles flexing as he sang.

Tommy shifted his bass to hide that he was getting hard, but his own low notes were vibrating against him then, making it almost unbearable.

Tommy bit his lip and kept playing, pushing through. This was Adam, sex personified; he was used to this. A response to this song did not necessarily mean a response to Adam himself. So Tommy let his thoughts drift along in the direction of the song, following the trail of sex until he saw Sam. Sam in the morning, kissing Tommy awake; Sam in the afternoon, working at his desk in nothing but boxers, concentrating so hard that he was biting down his deep pink tongue; Sam at night, soft skin and hard muscle moving with Tommy’s giving body.

The moan that escaped Tommy’s mouth must have been loud enough for Adam to hear over all the music, because when Tommy opened his eyes, Adam’s eyes were staring right back in question. Not hazel. Blue, beautiful blue. Clear and glowing, almost as if they were currents of electricity. Currents that shot straight through Tommy’s body, immediate and alarming, encircling the beat of the song, matching the tempo of sex.

“Fuck,” Tommy managed to mumble right before Adam kissed him.

Adam’s tongue invaded his mouth, pushing hard between his lips, and Tommy opened for him. His body gave too, hands dropping the bass so that it fell uselessly between them, his head dropping back to let Adam take, knees giving out so that Adam had to hold him up. Adam stroked his tongue over Tommy’s, relentless and unforgiving, and a whimper of surrender sounded from Tommy’s throat.

There was no audience there, no high to be had except the foggy daze of lust, the floating feeling that Adam could take him to the sky if he wanted. So good, good as ever. Better than ever. Because they remembered this, their mouths and muscles remembered this, and something else within them remembered too.

Fuck.

The music had stopped. Tommy opened his eyes. Adam’s were open too, even as he moaned into him. Blue eyes, not hazel.

Fuck.

Tommy dug his palms into Adam’s chest and pushed. He was too weak, too stunned to be efficient, but it was enough for Adam to let go and step back.

They stared at each other, panting. Tommy’s lips felt cold, lonely. Bereft. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Blue eyes instead of hazel. He wasn’t supposed to want more. He wasn’t supposed to remember. Damn Adam to hell.

In that second, Tommy learned that anger can be as swift as desire.

He pulled back his fist before he truly understood what he meant to do, and threw his weight into the punch.

“Shit,” Tommy said when he heard the thud of flesh on flesh, and said it again when a hot shot of pain zipped up his arm.

Adam staggered back, cursing, clutching his face. There was blood on his hands. Lots of it. Bright crimson and watery. Tommy looked down at his hand as if it could explain what he’d just done.

The band was on their feet and somewhere, from the shadows of the theater, Lane came running. Her stricken face made the past minute a reality: Tommy had just punched his boss in the face.

Lane scrambled up on the stage in her heels, arms outstretched to Adam. “Adam, let me see. I’ll call the—”

“Get the fuck away, Lane,” Adam growled, swatting away her prying hands. Then he lifted his eyes to Tommy, his stare dangerous and accusing, and then walked out. The side door of the theater slammed behind him.

Tommy covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head, mumbling, “I’m so sorry. Lane, I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” she whispered.

Tommy felt the weight of the entire band’s stares on him, demanding the very same answer.

“He kissed me,” Tommy said. “I told him I didn’t want him to, yesterday, but he kissed me. I’m sorry, Lane. I just reacted, I didn’t think.”

Tommy stood there, looking at her hopefully but fully expecting the next words to be, “You’re fired.”

Instead, Lane nodded and took out her phone. She looked pale, and a silvery line of sweat had formed around her hairline. “Do you, um…do you want to file a complaint? I can get you someone to speak to.”

“A complaint?” Tommy asked, then it dawned on him what she meant. “Sexual harassment? You can’t be serious. Lane, you know me. And I just punched Adam. There’s no complaint.”

Slowly, Lane lowered her phone. “Was it a verbal agreement? When he said he wouldn’t kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. He’d known that Adam had been in a few tight spots over the last couple of years but now his curiosity was piqued. Lane’s reaction had been too quick, too assuming, too _legal_. “I’m gonna go find Adam. Sorry again.”

Tommy didn’t look at the band as he jogged off the stage and through the door, into the alley. Adam sat across from the door, back against the brick of the neighboring building. A streak of blood stained his shirt and he was wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“God, I didn’t break your nose, did I?”

Adam cast him a dark glance. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tommy. It wasn’t that good of a punch.”

Tommy winced. “I’m really sorry.”

Adam lifted his shirt and wiped off more blood, which Tommy could tell now was coming from his lip. “No. I’m sorry. You said no. I forgot.”

“Shouldn’t have punched you though, man.” Tommy knelt in front of Adam. “Can I look?”

Adam appeared to consider it, then finally raised his face. His lip was split and swollen, but that seemed to be all the damage. Those pretty blue eyes were watery, though. Tommy couldn’t help but notice that.

“You’re right. It wasn’t that good of a punch. Never did learn how to fight.”

Adam snorted. “You’re not a fighter, Tommy Joe.”

“Definitely not.” Tommy reached out and touched a finger to Adam’s lip. “Can I get you an ice pack? Looks kinda swollen.”

Adam shook his head. “I’ve got a photo shoot tomorrow, but Sutan can take care of it.”

“Okay.” Tommy wasn’t willing to leave Adam alone just yet, so he sat next to him. “Not our best kiss.”

At that, Adam actually laughed. “Nowhere near. Our best kiss was Amsterdam. By a long shot.”

Tommy hummed at that, a few notes of dissention. “No. Our best kiss was London. I know you don’t want to remember it, but I do.”

Tommy stared at the side of the theater, unable to look Adam’s way. That statement lingered in the air, thick and hard to take in. Then he felt Adam’s head against his shoulder, almost nuzzling, and something wet seeped through his shirt into his skin. Tommy looked over, concerned it was blood but it wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” Adam whispered.

Tommy turned, taking Adam’s face in his hands. He wiped away tears with his thumbs. “Don’t worry about it. It was just a stupid kiss.”

“Not about that,” Adam said.

Tommy nodded and wiped more tears. “I know.”

Adam closed his eyes and dropped his head against Tommy’s shoulder again. Tommy let him rest there, keeping one hand woven through his hair, combing it a little.

“I’m so foolish.”

“Why do you say that?” Tommy asked.

Adam didn’t answer for a minute, then he said, “I made you magical.”

Tommy had no idea what this meant, so he took Adam’s chin in his hands and lifted his face up. “What do you mean?”

Adam closed his eyes, embarrassed. “I mean that the last few years have been shit. Starting with the night you left, and it just got worse after that. And I thought that maybe with you back, I don’t know, that everything would be right again. I thought you’d magically fix it. That you’d walk in the door and everything would be fine. But that’s not your job, to fix me. You have other things. Important things. Dreams. A boyfriend and a big house and children and picket fences and shit and this isn’t your job. It’s mine.”

Tommy ran a finger down Adam’s jaw, his heart fluttering at touching Adam’s skin like this again. So lightly, so intimately. That wasn’t supposed to happen either.

“If I can help you fix anything, I want to,” Tommy said. “I missed you, too, Adam. I’d lost my best friend. I had to leave but…I regret losing your friendship.”

Adam said nothing, but his eyes communicated silent understanding.

“I have to tell Sam about today,” Tommy said then, voice resolute.

“Oh good. I was hoping he’d have more reason to hate me than he already did.”

Tommy chuckled. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Please. I bet he has voodoo dolls of me around your house. Look. I bet you’ll find them.”

Tommy’s fingers traced over Adam’s eyebrows. “There are no voodoo dolls, I promise. He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he understands you, but he doesn’t hate you. And please try, for me.”

“Try what?”

“To like him. He’s really great. Adam…he’s my life now, okay? Which is why I need you to like him, as one of my oldest friends, I need that from you. And that’s why you can’t kiss me again.”

Adam studied Tommy, finally nodding. “Okay. I won’t.” He pushed himself up and offered Tommy a hand, pulling him up too. “I’m going to go home. Do me a favor and just tell everyone to meet in the studio tomorrow. We don’t need practice on that song anyway. It’s ready.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, and watched as Adam started down the narrow alley, toward the parking lot.

Then Adam turned around, and called out, “You’re right about London.”

 _London._ That caught Tommy by surprise but he nodded and tried to smile. Then Adam disappeared around the corner and Tommy leaned against the wall, trying to breathe.

Adam had kissed him.

How was he going to tell Sam?

*

 _Monte held him up as they stumbled out of the hotel bar and into the lobby. Tommy giggled as Sasha pinched his ass, or lack thereof, and threw her an air kiss over his shoulder, which Cam pretended to intercept for herself. In the elevator, Monte kept him close, but Tommy still managed to snuggle up to Isaac’s shoulder, leaving Isaac a blushing, stuttering mess._

 _The doors opened and the girls piled out, confident in the direction of their room. Tommy waited for Monte, and snorted. “2125, wasn’t it?”_

 _“Hell if I know,” Monte said, and searched his back pocket for their room card._

 _Isaac let out a slurry sort of giggle. “You can come back to my room, Tommy Joe. Sophie would love it.”_

 _“Don’t wanna steal your wife, Carpenter.”_

 _Isaac guffawed, kissed him on the cheek and whispered a sexy goodbye. Tommy ran a hand over Isaac’s ass before saying goodbye himself._

 _“Christ,” Monte mumbled, pulling Tommy in the direction of their room, which was indeed 2125. “Adam’s going to turn this whole fucking band gay.”_

 _“Not gay,” Tommy mumbled. He held onto Monte, afraid of letting go. “Just love Adam.”_

 _When they got to the door, Tommy leaned against the wall while Monte inserted the key card and the lock clicked open. Then suddenly Monte’s arms were around him, hugging him tight._

 _“Fuck. Maybe you’re right. You too, Monte? Wanna make out?”_

 _Monte laughed a bit, his goatee scratching against Tommy’s neck. “He’s in the next room, Tommy. 2127.”_

 _He. Adam. Tommy’s stomach flipped over on itself. “Where was he? Why didn’t he come with us?”_

 _“He’s packing.”_

 _“Our flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow night.”_

 _“He’s not going home. He’s going to Paris.”_

 _Paris. The most romantic city in the world. Tommy asked the question he already knew the answer to. “Why Paris?”_

 _“Sauli’s meeting him there.”_

 _Tommy wanted to ask another question, Why Sauli? But he didn’t. He shook his head. “He should come home. Sauli’s not… Adam should come home.”_

 _Monte only nodded. “Go tell him that. I’ll be in here. Not waiting up.”_

 _Monte disappeared into the room, and Tommy turned, staring at the door next to theirs. 2127._

 _Then he knocked._

 _Adam answered the door. His face was makeup-free, gorgeous and pure and freckled, and he was humming. His smile stretched even wider when he saw Tommy._

 _“Hey! Come in. I’m just packing. How was the hotel bar? Did you have the fifty dollar martini?”_

 _Tommy stepped in. The door closed behind him with a puff of air. He didn’t answer Adam’s questions. “Monte says you’re going to Paris.”_

 _Adam grinned. “The city of love. Or it is lights?”_

 _“I think it’s both.” Tommy reached up and squeezed his forehead. “Why? Don’t you want to go home?”_

 _Adam’s face fell a bit. “No. I want a vacation. I won’t rest at home.”_

 _“You won’t rest in Paris either,” Tommy argued, though he didn’t elaborate the reason why. He’d be too busy with Sauli to rest._

 _“You could come with me.”_

 _It was an empty offer and both of them knew it. Adam didn’t want Tommy along. He didn’t want to have to babysit him while he was falling in love with that Finnish dude. He didn’t want to have to make excuses when he and Sauli stayed inside all day to fuck._

 _Tommy grimaced. “I have to go home. I need to see my sister. Be with my mom.”_

 _“Right.” Adam picked up a pair of boots and threw them into one of the two suitcases he had open on the floor. When he turned around, Tommy went to him, his arms wrapping around Adam’s chest. He pressed his face into Adam’s soft t-shirt and inhaled. No one in the world smelled like Adam. He was all musk and spice and metal, a special blend of products and expensive cologne, sex and testosterone and sweetness and candy._

 _“You should come home,” Tommy said into Adam’s chest. He felt Adam’s body tense in his arms, then relax, but he didn’t hug back. He stayed still, almost limp in Tommy’s embrace._

 _“Why?” Adam whispered, and Tommy pulled back so that he could look into Adam’s eyes. He thought he saw a challenge there, and maybe hope, but it was probably just his imagination._

 _“Because…” Tommy couldn’t think of an answer, at least not a good one, so he gave an honest one instead. “Because I’m going home.”_

 _Then he leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed Adam._

 _Adam made a muffled sound, a sound of surprise, but then he was pulling Tommy close, scrabbling at him like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver, licking into his mouth like he was hungry for Tommy’s very soul. Tommy fisted Adam’s shirt, pulling until they were both on Adam’s bed, Adam’s weight on top of him, settling reassuringly on his body._

 _This wasn’t their first offstage kiss, but it was the first they’d shared without a dare or a joke to initiate it. And though Tommy had known he’d loved Adam for months, though he felt he’d projected it in everything he did, this was the first time he felt it come back at him, received and returned._

 _Tommy whimpered and the kiss changed. It went from fast to slow, urgent to wandering. Adam licked across his lips and then ducked down, kissing the underside of Tommy’s chin, open-mouthed and wet. Tommy arched into Adam, letting himself feel and bask in Adam’s affection, then he started to miss Adam’s lips on his own. Tommy reached up, holding Adam in place so that he could kiss his lips again._

 _Adam moaned, needy yet still musical, and Tommy let his hands slide all over Adam’s body. Down his sides, over the ribs under his tight skin, over the dip in his lower back, between his shoulders where his muscles seemed impossibly strong, down to his tailbone where Tommy could feel the gentle rise of his ass. He wanted. God, he wanted._

 _And maybe he could have, if Adam would say yes._

 _“Come home,” he whispered to Adam, who had paused in kissing him to run a hand through his blond fringe._

 _“Sauli…”_

 _Tommy shook his head. “Come home,” he repeated. “With me.”_

 _Adam’s eyes cleared, the cloudy haze fading to a pointed, scrutinizing stare. The sudden clarity seemed to Tommy like a death knell._

 _“You’re drunk.”_

 _“I had a few drinks.”_

 _“You’ve been drinking.”_

 _Tommy swallowed. “Yes.”_

 _Adam made a face, closing his eyes tight like someone had just kicked him in the shins._

 _“Adam…” Tommy began and tried to kiss Adam again, but it was too late. Adam shook his head and pushed himself up, standing over him. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking at Tommy as if he couldn’t decide whether he was devil or angel. Tommy couldn’t speak, finding it all too hard to explain, too self-implicating to defend._

 _Then Adam turned and went into his bathroom, shutting the door behind himself._

 _Tommy laid on the bed, breathing and trying not to think. The room was spinning, the mattress underneath him moving, and he wasn’t sure it was from the alcohol. Then he got up and left, letting himself into the room he shared with Monte. He got under the covers of the empty bed, cold and shaking, and he was still cold when he woke up that morning alone._

 _The room next door was empty. Adam was in Paris._

*

Sam was working when he got home, though it was clear by the glistening sweat on his chest and abs that he’d been stuck only a few minutes before.

Tommy watched Sam type for a few minutes, unaware of him standing in the doorway. Then he walked into the office, turned Sam’s chair so that his boyfriend was facing him, and dropped to his knees.

“Mnnn, hello to you, too,” Sam mumbled as Tommy pressed his mouth against Sam’s thigh.

Tommy didn’t answer. Instead he balled up the material of Sam’s boxers in his fists and pulled. Sam lifted himself and the boxers slid over his hips and down his legs.

Sam was already half hard, tempting and promising as it lay against Sam’s skin.

“Tommy,” Sam said, but what he really meant was please, so Tommy leaned forward, licked a stripe up Sam’s cock, then swallowed it whole.

Sam hissed and cursed and Tommy felt a surge of pride. The first time he’d done this, he’d been so timid, so scared he wouldn’t measure up to the only other person Sam had ever been touched by. But Sam had been a patient teacher. He’d taught Tommy how to touch another man, how to touch _him_ , and in return he’d figured out exactly what Tommy’s body needed to make it sing.

Tommy hummed around Sam’s cock, happily letting it slide between his lips, down his throat, over his tongue, and Sam hardened inside him. His hands cupped the back of Tommy’s head, not guiding or holding him in place, just gripping tight as pleasure washed through him. His breathing was getting heavy, faster than normal, and Tommy almost chuckled, imagining what Sam must have been writing the whole day to get him so worked up.

He let Sam slide out of his mouth completely and knelt up to him, kissing him with a force that made their teeth knock together. He wrapped a hand around the back of Sam’s neck, squeezing to the point of pain.

“I need you to fuck me, Sam. Ride me hard. Mark me. Make me scream.”

Sam lifted a brow but didn’t question it otherwise, and he locked a hand around Tommy’s throat, pushing until they were both on the soft white carpet of the floor. Sam made short work of Tommy’s clothing, pulling and yanking until he was naked. Then he gripped both of Tommy’s wrists in one hand and pulled them over his head before kissing him roughly.

Tommy whined a little, shifting under his boyfriend so that he could get some of the friction he needed. But Sam lifted himself up, keeping Tommy in a state of need. Tommy whined again.

Sam chuckled darkly and leaned down, sucking on the side of Tommy’s neck until the skin underneath glistened purple and red. Then he bit down on it.

Tommy jerked in pain but then rolled his head to the other side, asking without words for more. Sam obliged, leaving smaller purple marks all the way down his neck, stopping over his collarbone.

“Sam,” Tommy moaned out. “Now. Hard.”

Sam lifted off of him and Tommy thought maybe he was going to find the bottle of lube they kept in Sam’s desk just for these occasions. He opened his mouth to tell Sam that it wasn’t necessary, but then a finger brushed over his hole and Sam figured it out himself.

“You didn’t shower.”

Tommy closed his eyes and smiled. He hadn’t. After Sam had made love to him before rehearsal that morning, he’d just thrown on clothes and went, relishing that used feeling all day.

Tommy almost laughed maniacally. He’d kissed Adam when he’d still been full of Sam’s come. What the fuck?

Sam didn’t wait for an invitation. He slid into Tommy with one fluid movement, filling him to the breaking point. A scream tore from Tommy’s throat and then he pushed out an uneven breath. He didn’t let himself get used to the invasion, but savored it. He merely gave Sam a nod, permission, and Sam pulled out all the way before filling him entirely again.

Tommy reached back, grabbing handfuls of the carpet above his head as Sam drove into him again and again.

Fuck, it was too much. Sam felt impossibly large inside him, impossibly hard, and it was overwhelming and yet everything he needed all at once. Tommy arched back, his head pressing hard into the carpet, and begged, “More. Please, more.”

Sam pulled out of him only to haul him up onto his knees, kissing him wet and sloppy before forcing him back down, prostrate. When Sam entered him again, Tommy cried out with relief. His eyes filled with tears, half grateful, half humiliated. Somewhere between hysterics and complete insanity, Tommy urged him on. “Harder. More. Need. Don’t stop.”

He screamed out again as Sam hit that sweet spot inside him and grabbed on to the carpet. His hips and ribs moved against the carpet with each of Sam’s thrusts until he felt raw but Sam was relentless, aiming for that spot over and over until Tommy came, hot liquid spilling onto the floor, smearing across his stomach. Sam couldn’t help but follow, biting down hard on Tommy’s shoulder as he came. They collapsed in a knot, panting.

Finally Sam pulled Tommy close, kissing his face all over.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Yes. It was perfect.”

Sam laid his head back on the carpet, squeezing his eyes shut. Guilt washed over Tommy. Sam hated even the thought of causing Tommy pain, and this wasn’t his style at all. Sex with Sam was incredible, mind-blowing even, but hardly ever rough. Not unless Tommy specifically asked for it.

“Why?” Sam finally said.

“Adam kissed me. Today. At rehearsal during one of the songs.”

“But you told him no.”

Tommy nodded. “He said he forgot. So I punched him in the face.”

Sam rolled his head to look at Tommy, eyes wide. “You punched him? Please tell me you broke his nose.”

Tommy laughed. “No. You should teach me how to hit. All I did was give him a fat lip.”

“I don’t have the first clue how to hit someone,” Sam admitted. Then he giggled. “I’m a bad person. I’m so glad you hit him.”

“I told Adam today that you didn’t hate him, but maybe I’m wrong about that.”

“He tries to kiss you again and you will most definitely be wrong about that.”

Tommy chuckled and they fell into silence, the only sound their still rapidly beating hearts.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” Sam said after a moment. “You liked kissing him. Is that why? You wanted me to punish you?”

Tommy didn’t answer. He closed his eyes and let shame fill him. He’d kissed another man today, and he’d wanted more. The guilt was unbearable, almost as much as the disgust he felt at himself. Adam had kissed him and it had felt good, as good as before.

Tommy nodded. He had needed to be punished, but more than that, he’d needed Sam to fuck this desire out of him, to pulverize it, to beat it down. He’d needed Sam to remind him that he was already owned, possessed, by the best man, and he’d needed Sam to show him that in the way he imagined Adam would show it – all power and control. He’d needed Sam to beat Adam in the game he was famous for.

“It’s okay,” Sam murmured, but Tommy wasn’t sure it was. “You loved him. He kissed you today. You’re bound to feel something.”

Tommy remained silent. After a minute, Sam’s fingers slid over the bruises he’d left on Tommy’s neck.

“Well, he won’t forget again, not with these hickeys. They clearly say, ‘Taken.’”

“Yeah, they do,” Tommy agreed. He didn’t tell Sam that that wasn’t his purpose with asking for the marks.

It wasn’t Adam who needed the reminder.

*

Adam sat at his kitchen counter, his laptop in front of him, his cell phone to his left, a stiff drink to his right. Voices flooded through the phone – producers, record company higher ups, and Lane, all discussing his career, his next move, the plan for his life – and he ignored them.

He typed “Sam Raines” into the search bar on his screen, hesitated, then hit enter.

Google returned over twenty thousand hits to him, the first being Sam’s own website. Adam scrolled past it, knowing from personal experience that he wouldn’t find what he was looking for there. The second site was Sam’s Wikipedia entry. Adam briefly thought about Neil’s last Wikipedia rant, about how the info could be so easily manipulated, then he rolled his eyes and clicked on it.

The page loaded instantly, and Adam listened in on the phone conversation to make sure he wasn’t needed before beginning to read.

“ **Samson Jacob Raines** (born December 21 st, 1988, in Athens, Ohio) is the American author of novels, short fiction, and erotica. His notable works include novels _The Passenger_ (for the film, please see _The Passenger, film_ ), _Tighter_ , _Covent Bay_ , _Unattainable_ , _The Devil You Care_ , and his Dominic Amati series: _Refuge, Redemption,_ and _Reparation._ He won the Bram Stoker award for best new horror for _The Devil You Care_ in 2010, the Erato award for best gay erotica short form for his story, _Given_ , and the Lambda Literary prize for his work _Dear Cameron, Dear Sam_ , a collection of letters he and colleague Cameron St. Clair ( _link_ ) wrote to each other during their college years.”

“Adam. Are you listening?” Nigel’s voice broke through.

“Yeah, sorry. The tour will be on schedule, I promise,” Adam answered, and the voices resumed talking on his phone. He told himself to get a grip, but continued to look at the page.

1988\. That meant that Sam was really young, as young as Adam had expected. Twenty six years young to be exact, making Tommy the older man by seven years.

Adam skimmed through the article, keeping one ear on his phone.

“…began his writing career at eighteen with a publication in the online journal, Blood Lotus…”

“…completed his first novel at the age of twenty, which was never sold.”

“Raines signed to Henderson Literary at the age of twenty-one, the reputable Patty Henderson herself taking him on as a client. HarperCollins picked up _The Passenger_ and granted a first printing of ten thousand copies. Thenovel was not a commercial success until the film had been optioned in 2009, with rumors of Daniel Craig in the starring role.” 3

“…has sold nearly ten million copies to date…”

Adam shook his head. This was all fine, but where was the good stuff? He scrolled down, past the Early Life and Education headings, landing on the one called Personal Life.

Bingo.

“Raines married high school sweetheart Landon Gray in 2009 in a small ceremony in Washington Square Park. Shortly before the ceremony, Gray was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer.6 The couple continued to live in New York with Gray under in-home hospice care until his death in 20107…”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, barely taking the new information in. It wasn’t Tommy’s ring Sam was wearing. That, at least, was a relief, but his gut tied itself into a knot imagining Sam’s life. To lose a spouse at such a young age… he couldn’t have handled it. Not with Sauli, his longest relationship to date, and definitely not someone like Tommy, someone he wanted to spend his life with.

“Adam, focus please.”

Lane’s voice brought Adam back to the present. “Yeah. Sorry. I would say three months in the States, two international. Sounds about right.”

Adam continued to read through the entry.

“…became reclusive after his husband’s death, spending time both in New York and in his home in Ohio, but never granting interviews…”

“…reemerged with a breakthrough horror novel that was immediately hailed as the best work in the genre since Stephen King ( _link_ )…”

“Raines is now rumored to be dating Tommy Joe Ratliff, former bassist for Adam Lambert. Raines credited his new beau with, ‘pulling me out of deep depression and a battle with alcohol’ during an interview with Rolling Stone last year. ( _link_ )”

So there it was. Sam’s husband had died, he’d fallen into depression, and Tommy had come along to save him.

“Hey, guys, if you don’t need me anymore I’m going to go get writing, is that okay?” Adam asked the voices on his phone. They barely acknowledged him with a mumbled statement of permission, and Adam hung up.

Then he called Monte. He got up from the counter and refreshed his drink, pouring slightly more vodka in it than he should have. Monte picked up the phone after a few rings and greeted him. There were screams of children in the background.

“Bad time?”

“When is it a good time?” Monte asked.

Adam snorted. “I looked up Sam.”

Monte hissed at his children to be quiet. The screams continued. “And?”

“And it’s sad. I mean, I feel bad for Sam and all because that would suck, to put it mildly, but his reliance on Tommy to keep him happy isn’t my problem. Or Tommy’s either.”

“Adam,” Monte began, sighing, “do you really think Sam was the only one in a deep depression at that time? Think about the timing…”

Adam took a long drink and sat back down, thinking. “You can’t think he was depressed over me. I mean, I’m sure he took a week or so to get over it, but—”

“He left his entire life behind, Adam. This wasn’t puppy love. He told me that when he got to New York he spent six months doing nothing but sitting in his apartment, trying to kill himself slowly with whiskey. Then he found Sam. He said they couldn’t be anything but friends for a while, because neither of them could face being with someone different. But they weren’t alone anymore.”

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t he just tell me he was sure?”

“How could he be sure when he’d never even been with you? And you wouldn’t let that happen.”

Adam looked at the web page again. The picture of Sam was the same one from the cover of the book he’d read, looking gloriously studious but not like the real Sam – it was missing all the fire and passion and depth.

“What do I do?”

“You don’t do anything,” Monte answered. “You had your chance, Tommy moved on, and now he’s happy. You lose out. Sorry, Lambert, but you lose this one. I know those aren’t words you hear very often but there it is.”

“Don’t. Don’t play that ridiculous ‘Adam the Diva’ card. You may not like the way I did it, but I earned my successes. Karma may not have been personal or very artistic but it was still hard work. I still had to promote and tour and shake my ass and everything else required of me.” Adam downed the rest of his drink.

“I’m aware that you put a lot of work into Karma. Hiding is hard work.”

Adam clenched his jaw. “Just because Sam and Tommy found each other and it’s this vomit-inducing romance doesn’t mean that their version of hiding was any better, or that it’s healthy, or even real. How can it be if Tommy doesn’t know the truth?”

“So what’s your plan, then? To tell Tommy that you were too scared to try with him?”

“I want to tell him that I made a mistake and that I loved him then and still do. He deserves to know.”

“You mean you think you deserve a second chance.”

“Is that really so wrong of me?”

Monte was quiet, though his household was still in an uproar. Then he pleaded with Adam quietly, “Adam, please don’t.”

“He needs to know, Monte. And I… I need to know too.”

“You’re wasting your time. He loves Sam. He’s going to marry Sam.”

Adam closed his eyes and thought about the kiss he and Tommy had shared. It hadn’t been right, it hadn’t ended well, but those few seconds before Tommy pulled away had been like before. Better than before. Like the London kiss, but with more passion.

“I think you’re wrong.” Adam ended the call and stared at his computer screen. Sam stared back. Adam shook his head at himself, closed the laptop, and mumbled to his empty apartment, “Sorry, Sam. Tommy has to know.”


	4. Too Late

“Tommy?”

Tommy looked up from where he was tucking his bass into its case like it was a sleeping infant. Adam smiled down at him, fresh-faced and sweet. A line of blood had settled into a crack in his lip from the day before. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Adam said, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know it’s kind of late notice, but do you want to grab dinner with me?”

“Dinner?” Tommy questioned, unsure of Adam’s motivations. Adam had been aloof the whole day, staying a safe distance from Tommy. In case he had the sudden urge to kiss him, most likely. Tommy locked his case and stood.

Adam shrugged. “To say I’m sorry. And catch up. We haven’t done that since you came back.”

Over Adam’s shoulder, Monte watched the whole transaction with barely concealed interest. Tommy caught his eye and Monte jerked his gaze away.

“Okay. That sounds nice.”

“Great,” Adam said, smile blooming. “Do you need to call home and let the ball and chain know?”

“Nah,” Tommy answered. “He’s got a meeting with Julie tonight. All I’m missing is Sam pacing around, alternating between proclaiming, ‘The fuck I will!’ or ‘I love you, Jules’ a million times.” Adam raised a brow. “It’s his editor. They have an…understanding relationship.”

Adam snorted. “Okay. Let me grab my keys, then.”

Minutes later, Tommy was in the passenger seat of a sleek black sports car. He didn’t know what kind and he was too uninterested to ask. Adam wove through the Los Angeles rush hour like a pro. When he finally stopped the car, it was in front of a fancy French restaurant Tommy had never been inside but had definitely heard of.

“Adam. What exactly are you making up for? It was just a kiss.”

Adam just giggled and then there was a valet at Tommy’s door so, dumbstruck, Tommy climbed out of the car. Adam snaked an arm through his after tossing his keys at the valet and led him towards the gilded double doors of the restaurant.

“But… this is…” Too expensive, Tommy wanted to say. But that argument never worked on Sam and it wouldn’t work on Adam, either, who Tommy knew shared everything he had with his friends. Or at least he used to. “I’m in jeans.”

Adam stopped walking, halting Tommy right along with him. Then he touched the side of Tommy’s face with his finger. “You look gorgeous. Come on. Have dinner with me and stop worrying.”

“Okay,” Tommy relented, but he glanced around the grounds before entering the building, checking for rogue photographers. Maybe he should have told Sam before agreeing to come.

But then they were seated and a bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket next to their table and the waiter poured them both generous servings.

Tommy stared at the light-golden liquid, watching the bubbles travel in spindly lines toward the surface. He wanted to stick his finger into the glass, block one of the paths, and see what the bubbles would do if they were cornered.

“Tommy?”

“Sorry,” Tommy said and quickly downed the contents of his glass. He hoped his brain would start fizzing.

Adam poured him more, unconcerned, and then leaned back in his seat, studying Tommy with his bright eyes. “Ever been here?”

Tommy shook his head. “Sam and I have both been so busy, I guess we haven’t been out yet.” Tommy didn’t add that even before, when he’d lived in L.A., it wasn’t an option. Who had he known that would have taken him here?

“It’s one of my favorites,” Adam said, and Tommy vaguely remembered seeing pictures of Adam leaving this place, some gorgeous but vapid boyfriend-of-the-week in tow.

Tommy took another drink of the champagne and let Adam talk about nothing until the waiter came back. He hadn’t even glanced at the menu. When both the waiter and Adam looked at him expectantly, he just shrugged.

“The duck for both of us,” Adam said, and the waiter fell over himself to praise that choice. When he was gone, Adam laughed. “I applied to work at this place ten years ago.”

“You’ve made it, Lambert,” Tommy said and tried to smile, but he couldn’t. He was too uneasy, too anxious. He had never felt uneasy around Adam, even when he’d been so in love with him he could barely look at him without his palms sweating. This was a completely different kind of feeling, foreboding, as if he needed to brace himself for unknown dangers ahead.

Tommy shook his head a little and sipped more champagne, telling himself it was just the kiss and its residual guilt.

“I didn’t realize,” Adam began, and the change in his tone made Tommy’s spine straighten, “that Sam had been married before.”

“Yes. To Landon.” Tommy pushed his glass to the right, then back to the left. “Landon passed away about a year before I met Sam. Brain tumor.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tommy wanted to ask why Adam was sorry. It had nothing to do with him. It practically had nothing to do with Tommy.

“It was hard on Sam, of course. Took him a while to open up again,” he said instead.

“I’m sure it’s hard to lose someone you love so much.” Tommy let Adam’s words fall flat around him, settling without gripping his attention. He ran his hands over the cloth napkin, which was the color of dead skin. Eggshell, they probably called it.

“I couldn’t survive it,” Tommy heard Adam go on. He wondered if he should spread the napkin out on his lap, or if he was supposed to wait for food to arrive. Then Adam’s hand settled over his. “Not again.”

Adam’s hand was hot, so hot it made Tommy wonder if his blood was bubbling inside like the champagne. Then his brain centered on Adam’s words.

“Wait. What? Again?”

“Again.” Adam’s hand curled around his, and Adam himself moved closer. Very close. The unease inside Tommy rose up and stole his breath.

“But who did you lose?” Tommy whispered, searching his mind for some kind of explanation. No one close to Adam had died, that he’d been aware of anyway.

“You.”

The one word sent Tommy’s thoughts spiraling out of orbit. He took his hand out from under Adam’s and spread both palms flat on the table, over the tablecloth and the napkins, real flesh over dead skin. He pushed down, hoping to ground himself, hoping to keep himself from falling over. He laughed, high pitched and maniacal.

“I’m still here. Still alive and kickin’.”

“I lost you all the same,” Adam said quietly.

Tommy shut his eyes, shut out the look on Adam’s face. He inhaled, old habits kicking in, the steady in and out that had somehow kept his body operating through the six months of hell after he’d left the band. Adam surely hadn’t felt his loss, not like the way he’d felt Adam’s. It wasn’t possible. “I don’t understand.”

“I let you go. I was too scared, Tommy. I was so afraid that we’d try and then you’d figure out that you really weren’t into men, or worse, that you really weren’t into me.”

Tommy shook his head. “You said no.”

“I told you I couldn’t.”

“You said you didn’t love me.”

Adam shook his head. “No. I never said that. I said I couldn’t.”

Tommy closed his eyes and that night in L.A. came rushing back in a cloud of black smoke. He saw himself pleading with Adam, and Adam refusing to listen.

 _“God, Adam, just listen to me. I’m in love with you.”_

 _“You think you are, Tommy Joe, you THINK you are.”_

 _“No, I know I am.”_

 _“You can’t know that.”_

 _“I know enough. I know I love you more than any of these guys ever will.”_

 _“There’s nothing wrong with Sauli.”_

 _“Why are you arguing? You know I’m not lying. You must have felt that in London.”_

 _“I can’t, Tommy Joe! I can’t with you, okay?”_

 _Tommy leaving; Adam small and defeated in his hotel bed; Tommy scribbling an insufficient explanation on hotel stationary. The first flight out of L.A., which happened to be going to New York, which was good enough for him because it wasn’t HERE._

“I never said I didn’t love you.”

Tommy was shaking, large, jerking trembles like the kind he used to get. Before. Before Sam.

He reached for his champagne. “What you said was close enough.”

Adam took hold of the glass, and brought Tommy’s hand back down to the table.

“I realize that now. Hell, I realized it right after I said it.” Adam let go of the glass and Tommy drank it down, eyes searing from the fizz. “But I loved you, and I didn’t stop. I still love you, Tommy, and I’m sorry I didn’t give us a chance before. But maybe we’ve got a shot now.”

“Now,” Tommy repeated, stunned. “Now? Why now? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want you to make a mistake and end up with the wrong person.”

“Mistake? I didn’t make a mistake.”

“Tommy…”

“No, there’s no mistake. You said no. You said you couldn’t. You said that what I saw as a possibility was impossible. How can I make a mistake when I _didn’t have a choice?”_

“You have a choice now,” Adam said, and although his voice wasn’t loud, heads turned in their direction. “We can try now. I know you still love me, Tommy, I felt it yesterday. So just make the choice. Be with me.”

“I don’t have that choice, Adam. I’m with Sam.”

“Sam,” Adam scoffed. “He wears another man’s ring and you act like you don’t have a choice?”

Tommy’s blood felt like it just might burst out of his body, it was pressing against his skin so hard. “He does. So what? That’s between us. It’s none of your fucking business. You don’t know anything. You have no idea what we’ve been through because you haven’t bothered to ask. And I’m not going to defend him to _you_. At least he had the fucking courage to give me a chance.”

Adam reared back like he’d been struck, then slowly, he started to nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Tommy watched as Adam raised a hand to his brow, squeezing tight and wincing. He had seen Adam out and out cry before, moments on tour when he’d been under so much pressure and criticism had been so harsh, and Tommy knew the signs. Adam was showing them all. His eyes weren’t teary yet, but they were tired. Past the point of tired, fatigued, and there wasn’t a single bit of light radiating from them.

“I do love you, Tommy,” Adam said, and took a deep breath. “And I know I fucked up and I know I’m a coward. There were so many times I wanted to call and tell you but I knew you wouldn’t have wanted to hear from me. Then after a while I felt like it was too late and I stopped even dreaming about it. But then you came back, and you looked at me almost like you still cared, and you kissed me like it too, and I know I said that you can’t fix me and I can’t expect you to but I think I was wrong about that. Because for a second yesterday I felt like Adam Lambert again. Like everything was right. Like I knew exactly what to do.”

Tommy focused back on the bubbles in the champagne glass, then he lifted his finger and dipped it in. A line of bubbles hit the tip of his finger and then rolled to the side, detouring around him.

“I could drive myself crazy sitting here and asking every single what if that comes to mind,” Tommy said. He removed his finger from the champagne and wiped it on the tablecloth. “But I’m not going to do that. I haven’t made a mistake, and I’m not going to. You said no. I did what I thought was best for me. Then I fell in love again. There’s no choice here, Adam. You made it for us years ago. We’re both on the courses you set and no matter what you say now, we can’t change what happened then. We’re going to keep right on going down these paths no matter what.”

“No. We don’t have to. Nothing’s that permanent.”

“It is, Adam,” Tommy said, and reached across the table to take one of Adam’s hands in his. “Because I fell for Sam. That’s permanent. It’s too late.”

Adam shook his head. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Tommy let go of Adam’s hand. “And please don’t do this to me. I’ve cried enough for you. I can’t mourn the future we’ll never have too.”

“Tommy…” Adam said as Tommy stood.

Tommy looked down at him, but not in the eye. “I’m going to go home now. I’ll call a cab. Go to the bathroom and wash your face before you go outside, okay? Your eyeliner’s smeared and the paps love this place, I’m sure.”

He left Adam there, in the big fancy restaurant, and hailed a cab. Halfway home it dawned on him that he hadn’t shed a single tear because of anything Adam said.

Maybe he couldn’t mourn an impossible future anyway. Maybe he had no more tears left.

*

General chitchat filtered through the small space of the recording booth. Cam wrapped up her wires for the night, Isaac pushed his set into the corner, Monte and Tommy shut their guitars up in black cases covered in stickers and inappropriate pictures. The idea of dinner was tossed around and then rejected; there were girlfriends/wives/children/dogs to see, and it had been a long day. Only one song recorded. One song in danger of being kicked off the album, replaced, or rewritten entirely.

Tommy flicked a glance beyond the glass, to where Adam was talking in serious tones to a producer. The guy was famous, for what, Tommy wasn’t sure but he’d been informed to give the producer nothing but respect and to heed his every word without question. Tommy watched as Adam took in the man’s criticism and his chest ached at the expression on Adam’s face, reading his every thought as clear as if he was hearing them: the music wasn’t good enough; he wasn’t sure if he could do this; he was lost.

Then the band was leaving and Tommy followed them out. Adam hadn't talked to him all day, not that they'd had much opportunity. He'd been warming up when Tommy first arrived at the studio and had barely glanced at him. Then there was a short meeting with Mr. Important Producer Guy and then they'd launched into the music.

Tommy took slow steps as he passed Adam, who didn't acknowledge him but said, "I've got others. I'll bring others."

As much as he wanted to stay, to try to encourage his old friend, he was probably the last person on earth Adam wanted to talk to right now. He followed Monte out the doors and into the parking lot, the heat from the pavement assaulting him on the first step outside.

Tommy waved goodbye to his friends but didn't go towards his car. He took out his phone and checked for messages. Sam had texted an hour ago: "Another meeting tonight. Revisions are kicking my ass. Ordering Thai."

Tommy smiled and texted back that he'd be home soon and there had better be food left when he got there.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and was about to leave when the producer came out of the doors. Alone.

"Hey, good work today," the dude said, and Tommy shrugged.

"Thanks, but sorry it's taking so long. It's probably my fault. I left the band for a while. Threw off the groove."

"Not your fault at all," the producer said. He shoved a pair of expensive sunglasses onto his face. "It's not the mix that's off, it's the music. He's got to dig deeper. I mean, he said from the start he wanted to make a masterpiece but he's gotta start connecting."

"He will," Tommy assured him. "He's a great artist. He's capable of a lot more."

"Well, I hope so or we're all fucked, eh?" the guy said, whacking Tommy hard on the back. "See you in the morning."

Tommy waited until the producer had driven off in his expensive car before going back inside. Adam was still in there, and the thought of him alone in that recording booth, beating himself up, was too much for Tommy to take. He was his friend, for fuck's sake.

He walked back through the hallway. The lights were off now, and the only thing he could hear was the subtle hum of the air conditioning. The booth door was closed, sucked tight in the frame like they always are in these soundproof places, but there was a pane of glass. Tommy leaned in, cupping his hands around his eyes to block out the glare, and looked for Adam.

Adam was at the baby grand inside the booth, leaning over the keys with an elbow on top, a pencil in his other hand, marking on staff paper that was spread out over the lid. Tommy watched for a minute, barely breathing, as Adam set down the pencil and brought his hand to the black and white keys. He pressed down - a black key, then a string of white ones, his eyes falling shut as he listened to the piano's notes.

Tommy couldn't hear it, but he hummed the pattern all the same. Descending minor scale, a surprising dissonant tone at the end, twisting and distraught. Adam opened his eyes, picked up the pencil, and wrote it down.

Tommy reached for the door handle then halted himself. "Go home, Tommy," he whispered to himself, but his hand did not obey. He pushed open the door, walked through the control area and entered the booth.

Adam jumped at the sound of the door opening and looked up from his writing. For a second, he looked as if he didn't recognize Tommy at all, like he expected Tommy's face to be a G clef or the tic tac toe of a sharp. Then his eyes focused into panic, and he quickly grabbed the staff paper from off the piano and clutched it tightly in his hand.

"Sorry to bother you."

"It's okay," Adam said, even though it clearly wasn't. Regardless, Tommy walked to him and sank down next to him on the piano bench.

"Can I see?"

"Don't," Adam said, jerking the music out of Tommy's reach.

"Please?"

Adam only shook his head, then, carefully, he put the music back down on top of the piano, blank side up.

"So Monte wasn't pulling my chain. You really did learn how to play the piano," Tommy said, smiling, hoping to coax something out of Adam besides than this frightened, beaten stranger next to him on the bench.

"Cam's helping, and Neil. But mostly I just fooled around by myself until I understood the shapes."

"The shapes?"

Adam didn't answer but instead lifted a hand. He pressed down with three fingers, then moved his hand into different positions, changing the chord from major to minor to inverted to augmented. Then he looked back up at Tommy, grinning. "The shapes. Don't ask me why a D chord is a D chord, but I can tell you the shape of it."

Tommy laughed. "That's how I learned too. I had to figure out what a chord looked like by the curve of my hands." He set his own hand on the keys and played Adam's pattern over. "Curved, stretched, thumb out, pinky in."

Adam hummed a little bit as Tommy played the pattern again. The same notes Tommy had heard in his head outside the booth.

"It's beautiful. Why don't you show me it?"

"It's not done yet."

"So?"

"I can't."

Tommy nodded. He understood now, more than ever, that when Adam said "I can't," he didn't mean that he was unable.

"Okay." Tommy considered getting up, leaving Adam to his writing, and it was probably the smartest option. But he didn't. Again he went against that little nagging voice in his head. "The producer thinks you're not connecting. You know, if you don't want another opportunity to slip through your hands, you may want to show him that song. Or you can hide it. You can make Karma all over again. Either way people will love you and buy it and you'll still get invited to Rihanna and Katy's parties."

Adam looked away from Tommy, toward the stack of papers on the grand. Then slowly, as if the movement itself hurt, Adam picked them up and handed them over.

Tommy took them, handling them like they were fragile. He turned them over.

"Too Late by Adam Lambert” was written at the top.

Tommy's eyes moved on down, taking in the first line of the melody, the one he'd heard Adam sing already, then moved on from there. Though he didn't dare sing, he heard it in his head, as perfect as the recording would be - Adam's gorgeous voice stretching over an octave-climbing phrase, catching on the painful truth of the lyrics.

He went past page one, to page two, then three and four, humming along in his head. When he reached the double bar line, he lifted his eyes to Adam's face, noticing for the first time that his cheeks felt wet.

"You need to record this."

"I can't."

"That producer wants proof that you can dig deeper, Adam, or he's not going to keep going with this. You don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice." Adam locked eyes with Tommy, unflinching.

Tommy wiped his cheeks. "Okay. You're right, in this case. Make Karma two-point-oh. It's not the best choice but it is a choice."

Adam took his music back, setting it far out of their way so that Tommy couldn't steal it. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, as if waiting for Tommy to get out so that he could work again.

Tommy wasn't ready to leave. "You could play piano on that during the tour. Just you and the piano, a simple white spotlight. Nothing but your voice and a Steinway."

"I'd make a lot of mistakes."

"So what? Mistakes are forgivable. Especially when you make them creating something so beautiful."

Adam paused, his pretty blue eyes connecting solidly with Tommy's for a second. Tommy hated how much torture they revealed within. And then, without warning, Adam laid his head on Tommy's shoulder and whispered, "I shouldn't have told you, should I?"

"I don't know," Tommy answered. In truth, he wanted to tell Adam that no, he shouldn't have said a word. He should have gone to the grave with that secret.

"I'm so sorry."

"Shh, it's okay." Tommy took Adam's head in his hands, cupping him gently around the jaw. His eyelashes were clumped together from wetness. "Please, Adam. Record the song. If you don't want to do it with us around, work out something with the studio. Please."

"You just want me to record it because you know it's about you."

Tommy almost thought Adam was serious, but then Adam cracked a smile so wide that Tommy laughed in surprise. "Maybe." Then, his laughter faded. "I really don't like that it's about me, actually. I don't want you to think of me like that."

Adam rubbed his face against Tommy's palms, tickle-scratching with his stubble. "I don’t. I usually just think of how beautiful you are. How unique. How much I love you..."

Adam bent his head, feathering a line of whisper soft kisses over Tommy's thumb. Tommy pulled back his hand and rubbed it with the other, trying to get rid of the tingling, electric hot sensation of Adam's lips. "Don't. You can't do that."

Adam acted like he hadn't heard Tommy's words at all and reached out, capturing Tommy's hand again. Tommy glared at him, ready to say something harsh if need be, anything to stop Adam from playing this dangerous game, but the look in Adam's eyes stopped him cold. He wasn't doing his usual aggressive power play, nor did he even harbor a trace of lust in his expression. Instead, he was dead serious.

"I will. I'll stop everything right now. I won't touch you, or flirt, or tell you I love you, or even smile at you again if you can do one thing."

Tommy shook his head, arguing before he even knew what Adam was asking of him.

"I'm doing this as a friend, Tommy. Not as the guy who's in love with you, as one of your closest friends. Because if I wasn't in love with you, if you were just another friend like Neil or Sutan or Isaac or anyone else and I had these kind of doubts, I'd _have_ to confront them about it. I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"What, Adam? What?" Tommy said, impatient and terrifyingly close to tears.

"Look into my eyes and tell me you don't think you love me still, deep down. Tell me you don't think we deserve a shot. Tell me that you love Sam and no one else and that you don't need to know what we could have together." Adam squeezed Tommy's hand until Tommy was forced to open his eyes. "Tell me that while you're looking into my eyes and I swear, I'll stop. I won't ever speak of it again."

Tommy held Adam's gaze and felt himself tremble as he said, “Adam, I love Sam. I love him.”

Adam nodded, unperturbed. “Tell me you don’t love me anymore. Tell me you don’t want to know what we could have.”

“I…” Tommy started then turned away. Adam’s hand gripped his jaw, angling his head up again so that Tommy had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Adam, stop. I love Sam. I don’t…”

 _I don’t love you_ , Tommy thought. But for some reason, the thought in his head wouldn’t budge. No matter how he tried to force it, it wouldn’t move past his lips.

“Say it,” Adam said. “If you believe it, just say it, Tommy.”

Tommy tried again, but this time he couldn’t even begin the phrase. In its place, a clipped sob was released from his throat. Tommy clapped a hand over his mouth but it was too late. He stared at Adam through a film of tears and knew he didn’t have it in him to try to say it again.

So he did the only thing he could think to do – he turned and ran.

*

Tommy slid the key into the lock and turned the knob without making a sound. If he could just make it into the bathroom without Sam seeing him, he could step into the shower and turn it up to boil and Sam would never see his puffy red eyes or his tear-stained cheeks.

He shed his shoes and started towards the bathroom in socked feet, each step silent on the plush carpet. Sam was in the living room, not his office, as Tommy had hoped, but he was distracted. A female voice rang out throughout their condo, amplified by speakerphone. Julie. Tommy paused in the hallway and listened as Sam interrupted her.

“Julie, I’ll make the change, I trust you. I’m not particularly attached to that scene so, whatever. It’s gone.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about this scene where we first meet this Travis character…”

Tommy peered around the wall and Sam was nodding, facing away from him as he looked out the windows. Tommy seized the opportunity and set off across the room, steps as light as possible.

“I love that we get that rebellious vibe from him right away, but I think he meets Lindsay too soon. Do you think we could have an introduction to him that isn’t just Lindsay’s first time seeing him as well? That way the impact of Lindsay’s feelings won’t interfere with—”

“Tommy?”

Shit.

Tommy turned to see Sam staring at him in question, his face revealing both concern and confusion. He turned his head in the direction of the phone but didn’t take his eyes off Tommy.

“Julie, I’m going to have to call you back.”

Sam walked over to the phone and turned it off as Julie was saying her goodbyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tommy said.

Sam scowled, his hands stroking over Tommy’s face, tracing the lines the tears had left. “The fuck I don’t. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

Tommy rubbed his face, wishing that Sam had been in his office, that he’d made it to the shower without being noticed, that Adam hadn’t ever opened his big stupid mouth. But it was time for Sam to know. Maybe not about tonight, but about everything else. “Adam told me he’s in love with me.”

Sam stared at Tommy, face unchanging, though his eyes darkened to olive green.

Tommy swallowed and went on. “He said he was in love with me before I went to New York and he never stopped. But he didn’t trust that I was truly bi and didn’t want to get hurt so he told me no.”

Again Sam said nothing, so Tommy waited anxiously for his words. He watched a vein pulse in Sam’s neck.

“What could he possibly hope to gain from telling you this now?” Sam asked, and then closed his eyes, giving a little shake of his head. “Never mind. I know what he hopes to gain.”

Sam folded Tommy into his embrace, and Tommy felt like little more than a pile of bones and skin in his arms. He was all angles, all lifeless limbs, just a body. Tommy was elsewhere. Tommy had left the building.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I’m just in shock. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

Tommy shrugged, his bones rising and sagging inside Sam’s arms. “I don’t know. For this whole thing. For the way I’m reacting, I guess.”

“How else could you react?” Sam asked. “You just found out that the last two years of your life could have been completely different. I understand that, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded and untangled himself from Sam’s arms to sit on the couch. Sam followed. “It’s just so weird to think about, you know? If he hadn’t said no, I’d have kept playing for the band, he wouldn’t have made Karma, I wouldn’t have moved to New York. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”

Sam bit his bottom lip. “Tommy, you do want to be sitting here with me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Tommy answered without hesitation. “I just don’t know how to deal with this. I have to see him every day.”

“So?” Sam asked. “You told him you don’t love him anymore, right? And he said his piece, so what more is there to do?”

Tommy shook his head. “It’s not that easy. Adam doesn’t back down easily.”

“He’s going to keep pursuing you?”

“Yes.”

Sam made a strange sound, like a growl from deep within his throat.

Tommy leaned into him, planting his head into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Let’s just go home, Sam. It was a mistake to come here. He’s a mess, this record is a mess, and he thinks I can somehow change all that and I can’t. I can’t do this. Even if I did love him back, I can’t be what he wants me to be.”

“He can’t do this to you. You’re not just an old friend, you’re his employee. There are laws—”

“Come on, Sam. It’s Adam.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Precisely what I’m worried about. He’ll use everything he’s got in his arsenal, pity if need be, to get you back.”

“See? You agree with me. Let’s go home. Let’s get married. Let’s have a baby with Meg.”

“You’re not going to run from him again,” Sam said, and although Sam rarely made decisions for Tommy, Tommy could see there was no arguing with him on this. That vein in his neck was pulsing again. “He’s just going to have to see that you don’t love him anymore and there’s nothing he can do that can hurt us. Just prove it to him.”

Tommy nodded, then begged off, saying he wanted nothing more than a hot shower. Sam let him go, dropping the conversation when he sensed how tired Tommy really was.

It wasn’t until Tommy was toweling himself off in the steam-filled bathroom that he wondered if Sam needed the proof just as badly as Adam.

*

Adam sat dead center in the theater seats, listening to his band run through the song he was supposed to record the next day. He was as still as could be, letting the music flow around him, letting his pores absorb it, feeling it more than hearing. Monte’s guitar tangled in a sensuous dance with Cam’s chords, Isaac’s beat sizzled and simmered underneath, and below that, even deeper, Tommy’s bass was the slow groove that kept them all from giving in and going too fast.

So good, Adam thought. This could be the first single, if he could nail the vocal like he wanted to.

He didn’t stop them but let them play on, starting to visualize how the song would look on tour. He could infuse it with a little Spanish flair, add some tango-esque moves to the choreography, use bold reds and oranges against brown and black and—

Adam’s seat shook and he turned, expecting to find Lane or one of his producers sitting next to him. He wasn’t that lucky.

Sam was next to him, his eyes on the stage – trained, Adam knew, on Tommy. Determined to be just as cool, Adam focused on his band as well. When Sam spoke, his voice was low. Threatening.

“I spent most of last night trying to convince myself to stay at home and not to drive over to your apartment, kick in your door, and break your face.” Sam paused to take a slow, measured breath. “I’m no coward but I’m no fool, either. I know you probably have some of the best security in the business, and probably the best lawyers, too. God knows they’d have to be, after bailing your ass out over the years.”

Adam didn’t answer but he gave a slight nod of his head. Yes, his lawyers were the best. He didn’t know how, exactly, Sam knew of his legal troubles, but he had no doubt that Sam was resourceful enough to find out.

“Breaking your jaw wouldn’t do either of us much good, though. I don’t think I’d like jail much, and you’d probably forget my point as soon as you healed.” Then Sam turned towards Adam; Adam could feel his hot, stabbing gaze on him. “Not nearly painful enough anyway. So here’s what I’m proposing, Adam. If my boyfriend comes home crying again like he did last night, he’s gone. We’ll be back in New York before the sun comes up and you’ll have to find yourself another pretty bassist to harass.”

Adam watched Tommy, who was oblivious to Sam’s presence because of the spotlights on him, and gave himself the privilege of a short laugh. “Don’t hurt yourself, honey. Tommy’s under contract. As you said yourself, I have the best lawyers in the business. If you want Tommy to break that contract, they will crush you.”

Sam leaned in closer to Adam, so close that Adam could feel waves of heat rising off of him. Adam fought the urge to move away.

“You have the best here in Hollywood, I’m sure. In entertainment. I’ve got the best in New York, Adam. Who do you really think is going to be doing the crushing?”

In spite of himself, Adam shivered and hoped to hell Sam hadn’t noticed. But then he thought about what Sam had said, about Tommy coming home crying, and a smile lazily spread across his face.

“Did Tommy tell you why he was crying, Sam?”

“Yes,” Sam answered right away. “He said you’d told him you were in love with him and he knew you weren’t going to leave him alone.”

Adam closed his eyes, smile widening, relishing the burgeoning taste of victory in his mouth. “Is that so? You know, you might want to find out the truth before you go setting your overpaid dogs on me.”

Adam turned to Sam, who was looking at him through narrowed but fearful eyes.

“Ask your boyfriend why he was really crying. You’ll love the answer.”

“Why don’t you tell me yourself? You’re clearly dying to.”

Adam hummed happily. “You’re right. I’ve been dying to say it since you accused me of harassing him. See, Sam, I told him last night I would back off and not even look at him anymore if only he could tell me he wasn’t still in love with me, too. And you know what? He couldn’t say it. And you know why? Because I’m sure you know as well as I do: Tommy can’t lie.”

“Tommy can’t, but you can,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Tommy’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, he did say that. A few times. But when it came to trying to deny that he loves me, Tommy got, I guess you could say, a little tongue tied.” Adam laughed a little. God, it was so good to tell him this, to watch his smug, smarty-pants face drain completely of color. “So…sorry that he went home crying. I didn’t mean to upset him, Sam, you have to believe that. All I wanted was one simple answer. But I guess I did get an answer, didn’t I? And maybe you did too.”

Adam went back to watching his band, drumming his fingers on the arms of the theater seat in time. “Oh, and Sam… no need for lawyers. If Tommy wants out of the contract, I won’t fight it. All he has to do…” Adam paused, his tongue running over his top teeth as he smiled in mock innocence at Sam, “…is say it.”

Sam stood and for a split second, Adam thought maybe he was going to hit him, best security in Hollywood be damned. But he didn’t. Sam turned his face into the glaring spotlights, his skin appearing gray and yellow and dotted with perspiration, and to Adam it was as good as seeing an enemy raise a white flag.

Sam left without another argument, the door slamming so hard behind him that the musicians on the stage stopped playing.

“What was that?” Monte called into the silent theater.

“Nothing,” Adam said, rising and walking towards them. “That sounds good. I like the mix. Let’s see if we can do that with—”

“Who was that?” Tommy asked, voice soft. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the spotlight. Adam could see the color draining from his cheeks as he neared him, and felt a twinge of guilt.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Adam… who was it?”

Adam shrugged. “Sam. He just stopped by.”

“And he didn’t stay?”

Adam kept quiet and climbed the stairs leading up to the stage. So close, Tommy looked like he was going to be sick any second. His skin was practically green.

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam heard himself say again.

“What did you say to him?” Tommy asked, then repeated it in a strangled whisper. “What did you say to him, Adam?”

“Nothing he shouldn’t have known already. Why didn’t you tell him?”

Adam heard Isaac hiss, “What the hell is going on?” to Cam, and saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye.

“God…Adam, why would you… how could you?”

“How could I what?” Adam said, challenging. Anger built within him, at the injustice of it all, but something else swirled around that, something far worse. Guilt. Adam’s stomach flipped around inside him, and his tongue seemed to grow fat and dry inside his mouth. “He came in here, accusing me of hurting you or harassing you or some shit, so I told him the truth.”

Adam watched Tommy’s shoulders slump, his hand rise slowly to cover his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief. “No, Adam… why? Why did you…”

“He would have found out sooner or later.”

“Yes, from me. He deserved to hear it from me, asshole.”

Tommy yanked off his bass and handed it to Monte, brushing past Adam and down the stage stairs.

“Where are you going?” Adam called after him.

“Home,” Tommy yelled but didn’t look back.

“No you aren’t. We have a record to finish.” Tommy continued to walk toward the door as if he hadn’t heard Adam’s words at all. Adam could hear the shocked whispers of his band behind him. “Tommy, you’re under contract.”

“Fuck the contract!” Tommy said, whirling around to face Adam. “Fire me, Adam! Get yourself another fucking bassist. Destroy someone else’s life. I don’t care. I have to go home now, to see Sam and beg forgiveness, if he even lets me in. So fire me. Go on. Do it.”

When Adam said nothing, Tommy shook his head, disgusted. “Did it feel good to hurt him, Adam? Did you enjoy it?”

Again, Adam said nothing. The shame had risen up in his throat like a ball, and he couldn’t speak around it. He could barely breathe.

“If you hurt him, you’re hurting me too. How the fuck does that feel? Still feel good?”

Then Tommy was gone, door slamming behind him louder than even Sam, and Adam stood in the center of the stage, the accusing glares of his band piercing him in the gut.

“Adam, do you want me to go after him?” Isaac offered in a timid voice.

Adam shook his head. “Go home, guys. I’ll let you know if we’ll be in the studio tomorrow.”

Adam left as the band was packing up, slipping out the door before even Monte could stop him.

*

The door wasn’t locked when Tommy got home, not that he’d really expected Sam to lock him out. Sam wasn’t the locking out type. He was more the type to bury himself in a manuscript until the most immediate emotions were out and he could speak with a level head.

Tommy didn’t find Sam in his office, however. He didn’t have to go that far. Sam was sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table, looking down at the glass as if scrying a message within it.

Tommy went to him and sat on the carpet by his feet, laying his head in Sam’s lap. Sam lifted a hand and brushed through Tommy’s hair with his fingers. Sam was the first to speak.

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you. You shouldn’t have heard it from him first. I’m sure he wasn’t kind.”

“I didn’t go to the theater today intending to be kind to him, Tommy.” Sam sighed. “An eye for an eye, I suppose.”

“Until we’re all blind,” Tommy added.

They were quiet for a while. Upstairs, in the loft Sam used as an office, a Skype message made a bubble-popping sound. A message from his agent or editor, Tommy assumed, checking in to see how Sam’s revisions were going. Sam didn’t move to answer it.

“Do you love him?”

Tommy picked his head up so that he could see Sam’s face. He’d only seen Sam cry a few times. Once when they’d had a massive fight over something silly when they were moving in together, Tommy couldn’t even remember what had started it now. Once when Meg left after a long visit. A few times in the middle of the night, when Sam would dream of Landon and wake up only to realize all over again that Landon was dead. Sam wasn’t crying, but the same kind of pain was there in his eyes. The same kind of loss.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I know I don’t. Not now, anyway. I don’t know why I couldn’t say it to him.” Tommy leaned into Sam’s touch, enjoying the scratch of nails against his scalp. “I think… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain.”

“Try,” Sam said, not at all commanding, but gentle.

Tommy looked up into his boyfriend’s face, heart hurting. “I’m a different person now. I think a better person. But the old Tommy’s still inside and I don’t know. The old Tommy was speaking then. The old Tommy couldn’t deny it. And since Adam was acting a bit like the old Adam too it was…confusing. God, that sounds so stupid. As if there are two of me or some bullshit.”

Sam tried to smile and failed. “An alternate universe. Sounds like a good sci-fi novel. Can I steal it?”

Tommy snorted but sobered immediately. “I mean it, Sam. You’re my life now.”

“I know you do.” Sam lifted his hand and leaned back into the couch, his gaze drifting towards the windows and to the outside, to the distant hills. “But you loved him then. So much that you had to move across the country to deal with losing him.”

There were a thousand things Tommy wanted to say, all of them in his defense, although he couldn’t argue with that. He’d loved Adam deeply, possibly deeply enough to still be there underneath everything else. It all came to a focused point, though, in one sentence that escaped his mouth: “I love you, so I can’t possibly love him.”

Sam reached out, his fingers trailing through Tommy’s hair again. “You know what I was thinking about before you came in?”

Tommy raised his head. “What?”

“I was thinking about what I would do if Landon knocked on the door.” Tommy opened his mouth to speak but Sam silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Just hear me out. If Landon was actually alive, like there’d been a huge mistake and he’d never died, or maybe God realized he fucked up and sent Landon back from Heaven or something, and he showed up here, do you know what I would do?”

Tommy shook his head.

“I’d love him, the same as I loved him then. Because he may have been gone for a while but that doesn’t really mean everything else had gone with him.” Sam turned back to Tommy. “But I’d love you, too. Because I love you now and I’m not ever going to stop that, either. So I guess I’d be in love with both of you. So I think what you were saying about being two different people isn’t so stupid.”

Tommy scrunched his brows together, trying to comprehend Sam’s words, but he couldn’t. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying that it might be possible to love Adam as you did then, and love me as you do now, at the same time. Alternate universes. Another dimension.” Sam stroked a hand through Tommy’s hair and let it rest at the base of his neck, looking down on him with so much love that Tommy could barely stand his gaze. “But I don’t want it to be true. I want to be the only man you love.”

“You are,” Tommy said. “Come on. Let’s just go home. We don’t have to think about this shit. We can go back to New York and forget everything.”

“And keep running? Bury it until we can’t stand not talking about it anymore? Until the telltale heart beneath the floorboards grows so loud we can’t hear each other speak?” Sam shook his head. “No. I love you and I want to marry you and raise a family with you, but I’m not doing that. I won’t do it that way. I’m not going to bring a child into this world with you unless I’m sure you wouldn’t rather be with him.”

“I wouldn’t. Sam, listen to me,” Tommy demanded. “Listen to me now. It’s only you I love.”

“I’m listening,” Sam said back, voice far too soft to counteract Tommy’s. “But it’s not me you have to say it to.”

“But…” Tommy began, but didn’t know what else to say. He pressed his temples with his fingers in vain, as if that could help him sort out the disjointed thoughts between them. “What? Just say it to him and you’ll believe me? I don’t know how to prove this to you. I don’t think you should doubt me at all. What do I do? What can I do to make you sure?”

“I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t know,” Sam said and his voice was shaking then, as if he was struggling to control it. He shut his eyes and Tommy couldn’t help but think he was trying to shut him out too.

Tommy felt as if someone had cut off his oxygen supply. He and Sam had had their ups and downs, their fair share of fights and misunderstandings, but they had never, not even once, been unable to trust each other. It was as if Tommy had poisoned them, had brought disease and filth and decay into a sacred space, ruining one of the purest things he’d ever known.

“I need to go write,” Sam said, standing so abruptly that he almost knocked Tommy backwards.

“Sam, please…”

Sam waved a hand at him, brushing his plea aside, as he started off towards the stairs to the loft.

“Sam,” Tommy said again.

Sam paused before going up the stairs, saying so quietly that Tommy could barely hear him, “We’ll go home when you’re sure that you’ll be walking away from him, not running. Just…show me that you’re not running.”

And with that, Sam left to spend the rest of the evening in his own head, in a fictional world where, Tommy was sure, the characters never doubted each other’s love.

*

Two days later, Tommy found himself in the hallway outside the recording booth with the rest of the Glam band. He cocked his head at Monte, puzzled. Monte had called the previous night, stating exactly what time the studio would be ready for them, and it wasn’t like them to get behind.

“What’s the deal?”

“We might ask you the same…” Cam mumbled but Tommy ignored it, looking still at Monte for the answer.

Monte shrugged. “Don’t know. The producer just said to wait out here and give Adam a minute, but it’s been far longer than a minute. I’ve been here for an hour and Adam’s been in there the whole time.”

In the lull in conversation that followed, Tommy listened as hard as he could for some clue as to what was going on behind the soundproof walls. Unfortunately for Tommy, they did their job all too well.

“So, gonna tell us what the hell that was about the other day?” Isaac asked, and Tommy leaned against the wall, looking down at his old friend who was curled up on the floor, a balled up jacket under his head.

Tommy tried to make eye contact with Monte, looking for help as to how he should handle the question, but Monte was taking a decided interest in the lint on his shirt.

Fuck it, Tommy thought.

“When I left the band and went to New York it was because I was in love with Adam and he told me he didn’t want to be with me.” Isaac sat up, and Cam leaned toward Tommy. “Then a few days ago Adam said he’d really been in love with me, too, and still was, but that he’d turned me down because he hadn’t believed I was bisexual. To make this too long story short, I might still have feelings for him, which is what he so kindly mentioned to my boyfriend the other day.”

“Fuck,” Cam said, and Tommy nodded.

“You can say that again.”

“I knew it,” Isaac whispered, and everyone turned to look at him. He just grinned. “I mean, I figured you wouldn’t have left us unless it was really important. I also kind of figured you were in love with Adam.”

“Everyone could tell but Adam,” Tommy said.

“So what now?”

It was Monte who asked, and Tommy knew it wasn’t just the question of a concerned friend, but the question of a music director. He wished he could tell Monte that he wasn’t going to abandon the band again, but that was a promise he couldn’t make.

“No clue. I’m just trying to keep a boyfriend while also keeping Adam as a friend. I’m kind of… grasping at straws.”

“Fuck,” Cam finally did say again.

That wasn’t the half of it. Though Sam hadn’t acted exactly angry for the past few days, he had his ways of showing Tommy he wasn’t happy. Instead of falling asleep wrapped up in his arms, Tommy had spent the last few nights feeling like there was a gaping canyon between them in the bed. Sam had spent more time alone in his office, sometimes not even writing, but just staring out the window. And for two days in a row, Sam had made him runny scrambled eggs for breakfast. Tommy hated runny eggs.

But Tommy was almost positive none of this was on purpose or out of spite. Sam dealt with things in weird ways. Distracted ways.

And he was still cooking for him. That was a good sign.

“So you still have feelings for him?”

Tommy could only shrug at Isaac’s question.

Isaac put his head back down on his makeshift pillow. “Well, you should date Adam.”

“He’s already dating someone, Isaac. Someone he’s lived with for a few years,” Monte said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but… Adam deserves a chance if you think you might still love him.” Isaac closed his eyes and, as was his nature, began to nap right there on the floor.

“What do you think?” Tommy asked Cam before Monte could interject his thoughts.

Cam ran a hand through her hair, thinking. “He wasn’t the same after you left, Tommy. Maybe Isaac’s right.”

“Again, Tommy has a boyfriend,” Monte said.

“A boyfriend that knows you have feelings for someone else,” Isaac said, opening one eye. “Just sayin’.”

Tommy was about to say something else but the door to the studio opened and the producer stepped out. Tommy squinted at him. He could have sworn the man’s eyes were rimmed with red.

“Hey guys. Thanks for waiting. Going for a cup of joe. Anyone else interested?” The producer waited a beat and received no answer, yea or nay. “Okay, well. Give Adam a few minutes in there to clear out, okay, then go on in.”

Nobody moved as the producer made his way towards the lobby of the studio. Nobody except for Tommy.

“Give him a minute,” Monte said, stepping in front of the door to block Tommy’s way. But Tommy flashed him ‘don’t fuck with me’ eyes and Monte moved aside, arms raised in the universal sign of surrender.

Beyond the door, the lights in the mixing booth were off, and only one was on inside the recording room itself, a little lamp on top of the piano. Adam’s face glowed in the dim light, iridescent and devoid of makeup.

Tommy moved slowly, trying not to disturb the quiet of the room. A feeling loomed over the space, heavy and balmy like a summer evening, and Tommy could almost hear the echoes of a mournful tune drifting inside the walls.

“Adam?”

Adam looked up from the piano as Tommy entered the room. His eyes were red, too, like the producer’s, and his smile seemed like an effort. “Hey. Is everyone outside?”

“Yeah, but they’re giving you a minute. I was the only rude one that didn’t bother.”

Adam snorted. “They can come in. It’s okay now.”

Tommy didn’t make to go after them. “What did you record?”

“What do you think?”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile at that. “Can I hear it?”

“No. It’s not ready yet.” Adam paused and then corrected himself. “I’m not ready yet.”

Tommy understood that, or at least, he gave it his best effort. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to think of something to say.

Adam beat him to it. “Why are you talking to me? I figured I’d get the silent treatment for a week, at least.”

“Nah. Then there’d be too much silence all around.”

Adam’s whole face softened. “Sam’s really mad, huh?”

“Not mad, exactly,” Tommy said, then added, “He’s been making runny eggs.”

Adam blinked. “I have no idea what that means.”

Tommy jerked a shoulder. “I’m not sleeping on the couch, but… he’s not touching me either.”

“God, I’m sorry.” Adam folded his arms on the top of the piano and rested his head on them. “I was an asshole. And a dick. And an idiot. And you were right.”

“About what?”

“About wanting to hurt him,” Adam answered. His face flushed. “I really wanted to hurt him, Tommy, and I’m not like that. I was just so jealous.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure that anything he could say would help.

“I’m sorry I hurt him, though, because I hurt you. Well, and not just because I hurt you, but because I hurt someone you love, even if I hate him.”

Tommy smiled a little. “You can’t hate anyone.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Adam sighed. “I should like him. Or at least like him more than I do, because he makes you happy. He does make you happy, right?”

“Yeah, he makes me happy. Really happy.”

Adam lifted his head, looking at Tommy so earnestly that it made Tommy’s insides squirm. “Then I’ll let it go. If you’re happy, I’m happy for you, and the only thing to do is just let this go. That’s what a friend would do, right?”

“I thought a friend wouldn’t let another friend make a mistake?”

“A mistake? Are you saying you might be making a mistake?”

“No. I…” Tommy’s voice trailed off, wondering at the answer to that question himself.

“Tommy?”

Tommy lifted a hand and pushed his bangs back roughly. He ignored that his hand shook as he did it.

“Hey…” Adam stood and closed the distance between them. He hesitated only a second before pulling Tommy into a hug, his fingers tangling into Tommy’s hair, bringing his head to rest on Adam’s chest.

“Sam says he wants me to know for sure that I’m not still in love with you. He said when I could walk away from you, we’d know for sure.”

“You have walked away from me.”

Tommy rolled his head on Adam’s chest, saying no. “I ran. Twice now, I’ve run from you. Running is different from walking.”

“So stop running.” A shiver of pleasure ran through Tommy’s body when Adam tugged the hair at the base of his neck, and his muscles contracted and then relaxed, going limp like he used to do on stage all the time. He let Adam hold him up, pressing him closer until their bodies were flush. “That’s what he wants. He wants you to stop reacting to me. A reaction means there’s an emotion there, right?”

Adam leaned forward, his lips brushing against the skin of Tommy’s neck. A shudder rattled him, skin vibrating against Adam’s. Adam laughed, deep and breathless. “I do enjoy your reactions, though.”

Tommy let his eyes fall shut and when he spoke, it was in short, panted breaths. “I thought… you said you were going… going to let it go.”

“I think I like your boyfriend’s idea better,” Adam said, his mouth still moving against Tommy’s neck. “I think I want to know if you can walk away too. And how can we know that for sure if I don’t give you something to walk away from?”

Adam pressed a kiss into Tommy’s neck. Just one. Then two. Three, and four. Somehow, though it should have been impossible, his body went even more slack until Adam was holding up his entire weight. But, in pure counterpoint, his neck tightened, stretched, begged for more, and he knew he was already hard. He had to keep his hips from jerking forward, seeking friction.

“Adam…” Tommy mumbled not sure if was a plea for him to stop, or for him to keep going.

Adam slid his hands down to Tommy’s ass, pressing them together. “Want to walk away yet?”

Tommy made a noise that was too close to a moan for his liking. “I don’t think this is what Sam meant.”

“Then he should be more specific,” Adam said and nipped at Tommy’s neck.

Then the door of the studio swung open and Monte stepped in. Tommy pushed Adam away, flushing, but Adam smiled at Monte without shame or apology. Monte cast them a disapproving look that disappeared into a façade of indifference as soon as the other members of the band joined them in the room.

Adam nailed the song in one take, and only the band had to stay to tweak their tracks.

That night, Tommy sat in the middle of the bed he shared with Sam, waiting on Sam to finish writing, or at least pretending to write. He waited in patient silence, oscillating between confusion, guilt, and bouts of sadness that forced a few tears from his eyes. When Sam entered the room two hours later, looking haggard and frustrated, Tommy didn’t move.

“Hey,” Sam said, and though his expression was puzzled, he didn’t ask Tommy what was wrong. “I’m going to go to sleep now, if that’s okay.”

Tommy raised his tired eyes to Sam’s. “I know you’re upset with me right now, Sam, but I want you to know… I think it’s a very bad idea to keep on not touching me.” Tommy swallowed and tried to make his meaning a little clearer. “I need to be touched. I love you and I want to prove that to you, but I’m weak right now. He makes me weak and I’m sorry about that. I am. But don’t weaken me further with neglect.”

Sam picked up one of their pillows, stared at it, and then threw it down onto the bed as if punishing it. “I’m so angry, Tommy. I’ve been trying like hell to hide that because it makes me look weak too, but I am. I asked you so many times before we made the decision to come here, _so many times,_ if you still had feelings for him and you said no each time. I asked if you were worried that you could again, and you said no each time. And you know what? I believed you. Because I knew you loved me so much and we’re so good together. We’re solid. Nothing could come between us, or so I thought. And now I’m not sure of anything because you couldn’t tell him you weren’t in love with him still. Do you understand what that means to me? If you might be wrong about how you feel about him, you might be wrong about how you feel about me, too.”

Tommy nodded. “I know. And I didn’t lie before, before we moved. I didn’t. But I never expected to hear him say he’s been in love with me all this time.”

“And that changes how you’ve felt?”

“It changes the possibilities.”

“And that changes everything.”

“Maybe.” Tommy wiped at his eyes. “With him. It doesn’t change that I love you.”

“I don’t see how that could be true.”

“You said it yourself, Sam. My Landon is alive. My Landon wants another chance.” Tommy gathered the comforter in his hands. “I’m sure it’s not the same in reality as it is in theory, but I mean it. It changes nothing between us. I love you just as much as I always have and I still need you touching me.”

Sam looked at Tommy for a moment before turning away, ashamed. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t right now.”

Tommy let that settle on him and then stood, taking a pillow from the bed and making to leave.

“Where are you going?”

Tommy walked out of the room and down the hallway. “I feel like you’re miles away from me in that bed, Sam. I might as well be in the next room.”

“But we’ve never slept apart.”

Tommy pushed open the door of the guest room and paused to look at his boyfriend. “Sure we have. The last two nights have been perfect examples. See you in the morning.”

He didn’t have enough left in him to slam the door behind himself.

*

Tommy woke slowly, his brain ten stops behind his body, which was already awake and eager.

A tongue traced down his spine, warm and slippery, stopping between his shoulder blades for an open-mouthed kiss. It slid lower, leaving another kiss on the small of his back, one in each dimple above his hips, coming to rest on his tailbone.

Tommy made a noise, somewhere between a moan and words of encouragement, and lifted himself off of the mattress in the hopes of getting more.

Strong hands kept him down, gripping his ass, kneading it. There was a scratch of a day’s growth of beard followed by the tickling of soft curls, then that tongue flicked over his hole.

“Oh god, fuck…”

Tommy’s legs spread without hesitation, offering more of himself up, and the hands stopped kneading him to stretch him apart. Tommy pushed his face into his pillow and blocked out everything except the feel of lips and tongue and pressure. One lick then two, a swirling tongue, full lips dragging across his hole, hot breath. One hand centered itself in the small of his back, another pulled up on his hips, raising his ass in the air. Then they slid around his skin, switching places, moving until one found his cock, already hard and aching.

“Too close,” Tommy mumbled as a warning, trying to push the hand away. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, who held his gaze while ducking down to lick him open.

“This won’t be the last time tonight, I promise,” Sam vowed between licks.

“Fuck.”

Sam murmured something Tommy didn’t catch because he’d turned back to bury his face in the pillow again. Then Sam pushed his tongue inside Tommy and he had to crush his mouth into the softness to muffle a scream.

“Fuck, don’t stop that,” Tommy managed to say before Sam started fucking him with his tongue, and shit, Sam had a strong, long tongue. Tommy rocked back, letting Sam get as deep as he could, and Sam found the rhythm with his hand, stroking Tommy in time. Tommy gave himself over completely, spreading his legs wider and letting the pressure build so quickly that it was almost painful.

“Going to…” Tommy couldn’t finish his sentence but it didn’t matter, Sam had already read the signs and was busy replacing his tongue with a couple of fingers. He crooked them just right and Tommy felt his body go off like a gunshot. Sam stroked him through it, grasping him tightly even through jerking aftershocks, and eased Tommy back down on his stomach when it was all over.

Sam crawled over him and Tommy lifted his ass when he felt the press of Sam’s dick against his hole. He trembled again.

“Told you it wouldn’t be the last,” Sam said, laughter in his deep voice, and then his strong arms were turning Tommy over on his back. He knelt between Tommy’s legs, lowered his face to Tommy’s skin, and took Tommy’s cock in his mouth.

It was too soon; he was still sensitive and it was too much, but as Sam worked his tongue, cleaning up any remainders of come, Tommy felt himself stir.

“You’re magic.”

Sam pulled off of him and laughed, but then sobered. His irises were more gold than green, fiery and molten. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I think I might actually die if you don’t.”

Sam looked at Tommy for a minute, his face unreadable, then he pulled one of Tommy’s legs over his shoulder. Tommy felt the press of Sam again, reminding him how open and wet he was from Sam’s mouth, and had just enough time to mumble, “Please…” before Sam pushed in.

Tommy’s sensitivity spiked at the first deep thrust and his nerves stayed on the edge between pleasure and pain as Sam continued to push himself in to the hilt. Tommy arched up, meeting each snap of Sam’s hips, taking Sam even deeper inside him. Sam leaned forward, growling out Tommy’s name before sliding his tongue inside Tommy’s mouth. Tommy could taste the semi-sweet musk of himself on Sam’s mouth and licked at it, greedy for as much as he could get, and fuck. He was hard again. Hard and leaking and so close.

“Sam,” Tommy mumbled against Sam’s lips, and he saw the flicker of understanding in Sam’s eyes.

But Sam didn’t touch him. Instead, he slowed his movements, making the drag of his cock inside Tommy excruciatingly, dizzyingly evident, and Tommy couldn’t tell if he wanted more or less, faster or slower. All he knew was that he wanted – no, _needed_ – to come.

Tommy heard himself babble something that bordered on begging, and Sam leaned over him, pushing in deep enough that it seemed that he filled up Tommy’s whole body.

“Come on, M. Come for me again.”

Those words in Sam’s low, teasing voice were all Tommy needed, and he did. He watched Sam as Sam watched him, pausing to press in hard as Tommy shot all over his own stomach. Then Sam closed his eyes, let his head fall back and buried himself inside Tommy one more time, his body shaking with pleasure as he came.

He collapsed on top of Tommy with a groan, and Tommy snaked his legs around Sam’s, holding him in place. Tommy listened until their heartbeats slowed to normal before saying, “God I love you.”

“I love you.” Sam pushed himself up on his hands but Tommy kept his grip, refusing to let Sam go just yet. “I didn’t mean to be neglectful.”

“No?” Tommy asked. “So it wasn’t a punishment?”

Sam’s face twisted like his heart was breaking a little. “No. God, Tommy. Never. I just… I was scared that you wouldn’t be thinking of me if I touched you.”

“I don’t think about him when I’m with you, Sam. I never have.” Sam nodded, then lowered himself back on top of Tommy. Tommy laced his fingers through Sam’s curls. “Why weren’t you scared tonight, then?”

Sam lazily ran a finger down Tommy’s arm. “You were dreaming. You kept saying my name all…needy. No offense but it sounded a bit like a cat in heat.”

Tommy snorted. “Felt like that, lately.”

Sam moved, unknotting himself from Tommy’s grip, and Tommy whined when he didn’t feel Sam inside him anymore. In seconds, though, he was back in Sam’s arms, this time snuggling nose to nose. “I know the past three days would indicate otherwise, but I hate thinking that maybe I’m not satisfying you.”

“How could you even think that?”

Sam closed his eyes and breathed in. “I know what you said, hell, what _I_ said about if Landon came back. And it makes sense, it really does. But on the other side of that I have to wonder if I’m not enough for you, if there’s something lacking between us that you could even give him the consideration.”

Tommy pressed his mouth to Sam’s, kissing him once, hard. “What I feel for him, Sam, if it’s anything at all, is so completely separate from what I feel for you. I know that’s weird, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not weird, I’m just too selfish and too scared to truly believe it.”

“So we’re back to me proving it somehow. By deciding to walk away, give him up, not follow the possibilities.”

Sam rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I know it doesn’t prove anything but that you want to lose me less than you want to lose him but… I guess I want to know that.”

“You don’t care if he means something to me as long as you mean more?”

“I don’t know.” Sam blew out a breath. “Would you ask that of me, if Landon knocked on the door?”

“I can easily say that no, I wouldn’t, Sam. I’d understand how much you love him, and why you do.” Tommy rested his head on Sam’s chest. “But Landon never hurt you. Landon wouldn’t even have thought it. This is a very different case.”

“So you’d just, what? Welcome Landon into our house? Offer him a cup of coffee and be okay with sharing a bed with him? Or at the very least, be okay with him occasionally sharing a bed with me?” Sam asked.

The thought of Sam in someone else’s arms, even his late husband’s, made Tommy feel sick. “I don’t know. I’d hate it, honestly. But if you needed him and you wouldn’t be happy knowing he was out there and you weren’t together… I don’t know. Yeah, I’d hate it, but if you needed both of us, I suppose I could accept that. I only want what’s best for you, Sam. At the risk of sounding like a therapist, I’d want you to be fulfilled, to have your needs met, and if it took two of us for you to feel complete that way, I don’t know what I _could_ do but accept it.”

Sam seemed to take that in and turn it over in his brain. Tommy could almost see his thoughts moving behind his eyes, even there in the dark. So while he thought about it, Tommy reached across Sam’s body for his hand, curling his fingers around Sam’s.

Tommy sat up.

“What?” Sam asked, sitting up too, alarmed.

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

“I took it off.”

“Why?” Tommy asked, fingering the indent in Sam’s skin, where his wedding band usually was.

Sam looked down at his hand and gave Tommy a sad smile. “All this talk about Landon got me thinking, I guess. I wondered if maybe the reason why you feel something is lacking between us is because I’ve never really let him go. Maybe you feel like you’re sharing me, even if he’s not here, and that’s why you feel like you could love someone else.”

“Sam…”

“And so I thought that maybe if I made a better effort to live in the present, maybe if I didn’t let Landon seep a little bit into each day, maybe you and I would be better.”

Tears flooded Tommy’s eyes and he took Sam’s head in his hands. “Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with us. I don’t feel at all unsatisfied. I am complete when I’m with you and I have never, not even once, felt like your love for Landon has been in our way. So stop this, Sam. Stop this now.”

Tommy stood and felt around on the floor for his boxer-briefs. He tugged them on when he found them and headed out of the guest bedroom. Sam followed, pulling up his boxers as he chased Tommy down the hallway.

“What are you doing?”

“Where’d you put the ring?” Tommy asked.

“It’s on the dresser.”

Tommy burst into their bedroom, flipping on a lamp on the dresser so that he could see what lay on top of it. Sam’s silver band was right there, next to his watch. He picked it up and held it up between their faces.

“Put it back on.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because…” Tommy began, then stopped to blink away stubborn tears. “Because I love that you wear it. Because I love that you love him so much still, after all this time; because if you love him that much, I believe you love me that much too.”

“But Tommy, soon I’ll be wearing yours anyway, right?”

Tommy lowered the ring and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. The band was plain platinum, no fancy designs, no stones. But inside, in perfect, thin script, the name “Landon” was inscribed.

Tommy shook his head. “There’s room for my name, too, Sam. Right next to Landon’s. If you wanted, you could fit both of our names inside this ring.”

“And that would be okay with you?”

Tommy paused, choosing his words carefully. “That’s exactly what I want. His name next to mine.”

Though Tommy didn’t add what he meant, that his name next to Landon’s inside Sam’s wedding band meant that they were of equal importance, not one more loved or better than the other, but he could read in Sam’s eyes that he followed completely.

Sam nodded, taking the ring from Tommy’s hand and slipping it back on his finger where it belonged.

“I’ll get it engraved in New York, then, where I had it made.”

Tommy smiled and pulled Sam close to him, squeezing him tightly. “Good. Now let’s get back to bed. Our bed.”

“You have great ideas,” Sam said, kissing Tommy sweetly.

“The best,” Tommy agreed, and pulled his boyfriend down onto the soft mattress, where he slept dreamlessly in Sam’s arms all night.

*

Maybe it had been a mistake to go, but Sutan had sounded so excited on the phone, and goodness knows Adam could have used some time to chill on the beach.

But maybe a little warning to Tommy wouldn’t have hurt. For everyone’s sake. He wasn’t supposed to be there, after all. He was supposed to be with Lee, getting pictures for promo or maybe even album cover, if the inspiration struck, but Lee cancelled at the last minute. Riff had the flu, and if that wasn’t bad enough, so did Scarlett.

So Adam made his way to a nearly deserted section of the beach, just as Sutan instructed him. Flames licked the sky over the small crest of dunes and when Adam shed his shoes and half slid, half ran over the hill, he could see Monte was hard at work on getting the fire as big as possible.

Sutan and some guys that Adam didn’t know were dancing around the fire, humorous and mesmerizing all at once, and Adam’s feet wanted nothing more than to join them. But then he saw Tommy, cuddled on a piece of driftwood with Sam, and he really, really wished Sutan had warned them.

Tommy flashed his eyes at Adam, full of fear, before turning to his boyfriend apologetically.

Adam looked away, not wanting to see the whispers that would follow, the words, “I swear he wasn’t supposed to be here,” shaping Tommy’s lips.

Sutan leapt and landed in front of Adam, laughing. “So glad you could join us, rock star.”

Someone, Adam didn’t know who, handed him a beer with the cap already pulled off and clinked his glass with theirs. “Thank Lee. He cancelled.”

“Well, drink up. You’re behind.”

Adam took a long pull from the bottle and surveyed the scene. There were about twenty people in all, all scattered in varying distances from the fire, mostly Sutan’s friends but a few Adam knew. Cam was near the waves, hand in hand with her latest girlfriend, Myra. Isaac too, with Sophie. Monte was sans wife but that wasn’t unusual. A few of the guys Adam knew from Sutan’s latest project, a collection of makeup photography he hoped to publish. Then, of course, Sam and Tommy.

Adam kind of hated himself for doing it, but he walked over to them anyways, knowing it had to be done.

“Hey.”

Tommy looked up at him, eyes a beautiful amber color in the dancing firelight. Sam glared.

“Walk with me?”

Adam asked Sam the question, not Tommy, and Sam’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Adam glanced down the beach, where about thirty paces from the fire, the night was as black as coal. “I promise we won’t go far. And I’m not carrying a weapon or anything.”

At that, Sam snorted. “Sure.” Adam offered a hand, which Sam accepted, and pulled him up. Sam cast a glance to Tommy as they walked off, which Adam assumed was supposed to be reassuring. He ignored Monte’s stunned stare as they passed by the fire.

“I’ve been an asshole,” Adam said as soon as they were far enough away from the party to not be overheard. “To you and Tommy, but especially to you. I never meant to hurt Tommy, and I’m not sure I even really wanted to hurt you.”

“You just wanted to hurt _us_ ,” Sam provided, and Adam nodded.

“Yeah. Hurting you was just a side benefit. No offense.”

“Sure, none taken,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t dreamed of all the glorious ways you could kill me.”

Sam raised his nose in the air but then dropped his shoulders down, shrugging. “Once or twice.”

“So can we just call it even and I swear I’ll try not to be such a dick in the future?”

Adam stopped walking and held out his hand, which Sam didn’t shake. Instead, Sam quirked a brow at him. “Does that mean you’re not going to pursue Tommy anymore?”

Adam lowered his hand, taking a deep breath as he did so. “I can’t do that. I love him.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “So do I.”

“I know, and I know he loves you. The problem is that I think he might still love me too, and until I know for sure if he does or not, I can’t let this go.” Adam squinted at Sam. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“Just so I’m crystal clear here, Adam. You apologized just now for being an asshole to me and hurting Tommy in the process, but… you’re not going to stop being an asshole anyway?”

“I’m not giving up on Tommy. There’s no chance of that,” Adam say, voice earnest. “But I will stop being a jerk about it. I won’t make you a target anymore. I’m going to do this no matter what, but I think it’s only fair to keep it all out in the open. That way Tommy doesn’t have to feel like he’s hiding anything.”

Sam scowled. “And just what do you think he’d be hiding from you?”

“A kiss, more than that, I don’t know. I’m just saying that I don’t want him to feel like he’s sneaking around on you.”

“He would never cheat on me.”

“I’m glad you’re confident of that. So what do you have to lose by me trying?” Adam shrugged. “I know you told Tommy you wanted to know he could walk away from me. So let him. Let me try, and if he walks away, we’ll both have an answer.”

Sam closed his eyes and laughed, a strange, startled laugh that was metallic and shallow. “I can’t give you permission to try to steal my boyfriend.”

“I’m not asking for it,” Adam said. “And, I believe you said Tommy doesn’t need your permission for anything either. Like you said, he loves you and he would never cheat on you, so if you really believe that, I’ve got no chance and you have nothing to lose. Right?”

Adam watched as the breeze sifted through Sam’s curls. He was, Adam hated to admit, staggeringly handsome. Maybe not in a glamorous way like Adam himself, but in this ideal male sort of way. Perhaps Sutan hadn’t been too far off calling him a prince.

“I have a great deal to lose, Adam,” Sam said quietly, then, to Adam’s shock he added, “And I’m not sure I can live through that kind of pain again.”

Even though it was Sam, Adam had never been able to watch someone in pain without his nurturing, mothering side turning on. He had to keep his arms stiff at his sides to stop himself from resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“And I can’t lose him again,” Adam said. “I have to try. I don’t expect you to understand and I certainly don’t expect you to step aside for me, but I thought I should be honest.”

“Guys?” Adam and Sam turned to see Tommy coming toward them, his bare feet just above the water line. “Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” Sam said though his smile was pinched. “Adam apologized.”

Adam nodded. “And…I think…” Adam sent a meaningful look in Sam’s direction. “I think we agreed to put all this petty competition aside and just focus on what’s best for you. Right, Sam?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Adam before agreeing. “Exactly. I only want what’s best for you.”

Tommy looked between them, amused. “And have you decided what’s best for me, then?”

“No, but I’m confident you will,” Adam said, then he gave them both a smile. “Going to get back to the party now. Thanks for hearing me out, Sam.”

Adam walked away, wet sand squishing between his toes, back toward the fire. He heard Sam’s low voice murmuring to Tommy, Tommy’s voice echoing something back to him. Adam lifted his beer and drank the whole thing down.

Three hours later, he’d had about six more and his fingers were sticky from the marshmallow of the s’mores they made. He was leaning a bit too dependently on Sutan, who had spread out a blanket for them a safe distance from the flames. Every time the smoke and fire shifted, though, he could see Sam and Tommy on the other side, snuggling under an old quilt Adam recognized from Tommy’s bunk on their first tour.

It wasn’t the snuggling, though, that twisted a sharp pain in his chest each time the fire revealed them. It was the way Tommy was looking at Sam, so enraptured, like he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off of him.

“It’s like he hung the moon in the sky,” Sutan said, staring at the couple across the flames too. “I wish I loved someone like that…”

Sutan blinked and tried to focus on Adam’s face. “Sorry, baby. I’m such an insensitive bitch when I’m drunk.”

“You’re right, though.” Adam handed what little was left of his beer to Sutan and stood, rather precariously.

“Where are you going?”

“Down the beach. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t get too close to the water, okay?” Sutan asked, lips pouted in a worried frown.

“I won’t.”

Adam kept to his promise, moving just far enough out of the campfire’s reach to be in the dark, and then sat down on the sand. The surf licked at his toes and it was cold, so he drew his legs into his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“Adam?”

Tommy’s voice seemed to belong to the wind itself.

“Over here,” Adam said, his voice just as airy.

Tommy sat next to him, his toes digging into the sand by Adam’s feet. “Sam told me about your talk.”

“I see,” Adam said. He reached down and traced an A in the sand. “You probably think I’m an asshole too.”

Tommy was silent, so Adam filled in the rest of his name in the sand.

“You and Sam,” he began, taking time with the words, “you fit. I’ve never really seen you two together and watching you tonight was kind of amazing, to be honest. The way he looks at you…the way you look at him…”

Adam stared at his name in the sand and then without warning, crossed it out with a flurry of scratches. “Was I wrong, Tommy, to think I felt something with you? Was I wrong to hope that there’s something between us? Because seeing you guys together, I cannot imagine how you could feel anything for me if you feel _that much_ for him. I mean…is my mind playing tricks on itself?”

“I…”

Adam turned towards Tommy, who was looking out over the black sea. He seemed so small to Adam then, against the backdrop of darkness, made smaller by his fearful expression.

“What?”

“It’s so different. What I feel for you is so different from what I feel for Sam. And I know it’s crazy but it’s so separate. There’s you, and there’s him, and there’s how I am with each of you and… I think maybe I have multiple personalities or something.”

It wasn’t quite the answer Adam wanted to hear. “So there is something between us, then? You feel something for me?”

Tommy opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again, thinking.

“Just tell me, Tommy. Should I try, or should I let it go? Do I really have any chance with you?”

“No,” Tommy said, shaking his head. Then he bit down so hard on his lip that it turned white. “Yes. I don’t know.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and tried to be patient. “Don’t think about what your answer should be, Tommy. Just tell me what you want. Do you want me or not?”

Tommy took a heaving breath, glanced back at the bonfire, and then nodded. Once.

Relief unleashed itself inside Adam’s chest and he felt the cool rush of calm spreading through his whole body.

“I want to know. This alternate universe thing, I want to know. What we could be. Need to know,” Tommy whispered so soberly that it gave Adam goosebumps. He didn’t know what Tommy meant by an alternate universe, but he had a good guess.

He leaned toward Tommy and brushed his thumb over Tommy’s lips. “Then let’s find out.”

“No,” Tommy said, pulling away from Adam’s touch. “I love him. I can’t lose him.”

“But you just said—”

“Yes, and now you know. But I can’t and we won’t, okay? We won’t ever know.”

The overwhelming confusion within Adam made him nauseous and dizzy. “I can’t do that. I won’t… I won’t live like that.”

“I. Won’t. Lose him,” Tommy said, his voice barely audible above the wind.

“But you want me.” Tommy nodded. “And you love me?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder toward the bonfire again. When he looked back at Adam, his expression was so sad and confused that Adam thought his heart might break.

“Okay, it’s okay if you can’t answer that,” Adam said, and wished he could believe it. “But I can’t forget everything else. I need to find out too.”

Tommy shook his head. “Forget it all,” he whispered. “I’m going to marry Sam. Just let me go. Please, Adam, just let me go…”

Adam understood, then, what Tommy was asking for. He’d made his choice and he didn’t want to consider the other options, because considering other options meant that he must also consider loss.

“I don’t know if I can.”

Tommy reached out, his palm cupping Adam’s jaw for the swiftest of a second. He said, “I love him, Adam. You have to. Please. For me.”

Then Tommy stood and walked quickly away, like a man who wanted to run but knew he couldn’t, and Adam stared out at the black ocean, wishing it would swallow him up.


	5. Mesmerize

Tommy threw himself down on the stool with a thunk and moaned. Sam, amused, slid a mug in front of him and filled it with thick black coffee from the pot, his other hand turning the spatula at the same time, keeping the bacon in the pan from burning. Tommy couldn’t have been more grateful and swallowed half the mug with a sigh of appreciation.

“Plans for today?” Sam asked, twisting to extract two plates from the shelves behind him. He doled out eggs, bacon, and toast in equal measure and took a seat next to Tommy on the other side of the counter.

Tommy swiped a piece of bacon off Sam’s plate and Sam playfully swatted at him with a weak protest. Tommy shoved the whole strip in his mouth and chewed, speaking through bacon bits. “Not a thing. Why?”

“Want to show me the city? We’ve been here for over a month and I don’t know anything but this block, the grocery store, and the nearest Starbucks,” Sam said, twisting off the lid of strawberry jam. He offered it to Tommy first, who waved it away in lieu of butter.

“Want to do some touristy things? Take the Homes of the Stars tour?”

Sam chuckled. “I want to see the places you love, Tommy. I want the tour of Tommy Joe Ratliff.”

Tommy bit through his toast. It was just barely toasted, the way he loved it, so that it was still chewy inside and soaked in butter. “You saw my mom’s house when we visited last year.”

Tommy saw Sam hesitate before pushing a forkful of egg into his mouth and knew exactly what he was thinking. During their short trip last year, when Sam had finally met Tommy’s mother and other family, Tommy had carefully avoided most of L.A. and had specifically shunned his usual haunts, afraid of who he might see there.

“If we’re going to be here, Tommy, we need to _live_ here.”

Tommy nodded and stuffed the rest of the toast in his mouth. “I know. Let me grab a shower and we can go. You’ll love this place I know for lunch. It’s a diner but it has the best gyros in the world.”

That made Sam grin so wide he showed his teeth, which was a rare sight. But then Tommy’s cell phone vibrated, practically skipping across the counter with each pulse.

Tommy picked it up and glanced at the number. He set it back down.

“Answer it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“He’s not going to go away if you ignore him, Tommy.”

Tommy should have known that Sam would guess the call was from Adam, but it still surprised him. He wiped his fingers on his napkin and picked up his phone.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Busy today?”

Tommy glanced at Sam, who was pushing his eggs around on his plate. “Yeah. Kinda. Why?”

“The powers that be are breathing down my neck about promo photos and a cover. I need a tie breaker.”

“And I’m the tie breaker?” Tommy asked. He picked up another piece of toast and inspected it.

“Yeah, um…” Adam paused, and for almost a minute there was dead silence on the phone. “It kind of depends on you.”

“How?”

“I’ll show you. Can you meet me at Lee’s in an hour?”

“Adam,” Tommy began, frustrated, “I told you. I’m kinda busy today. You gave us the week off, remember?”

As Adam began to plead his case, a warm hand pressed on Tommy’s thigh. He turned and Sam was shaking his head. Tommy covered up the phone with his hand and whispered, “What?”

“If he needs you, go. We can explore tomorrow.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Tommy hissed back.

“Yes.” Sam went back to eating his eggs with no further explanation. In his ear, Adam was still explaining why the decision had to be made today. Something about the schedule of the release and the actual physical production of the album.

“Adam, it’s okay. I’ll be at Lee’s in an hour.” Adam thanked him and Tommy hung up, setting the phone between his plate and Sam’s on the counter. “Seriously, are you out of your mind?”

“We can go to the diner tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sam sighed. He gave up on his breakfast, pushing the plate as far away from him as the counter space would allow. “Adam was right the other night. If I’m confident that you love me and it’s the kind of love that’s meant to last, then he can try all he wants and it won’t matter.”

Tommy felt his face drain of color and hoped to hell Sam didn’t notice. “You trust me that much?”

“Yes.” Sam’s hand slid down the counter and caught Tommy’s. He squeezed. “I know this is hard for you. I know you’re struggling to figure out what he means to you, and what that means to us. But I think that in the end, all this is going to do is make us stronger. Kind of like muscles.”

“What?” Tommy asked, confused.

“Muscles. You know, they have to tear a little before they can get stronger.”

“Oh.” Tommy took his hand back from Sam’s, considering that. “It feels like you’re telling me to let Adam take his best shot.”

“I think you should do what feels right for you,” Sam said, clarifying. “From my standpoint, I have to believe that you won’t do anything to hurt us. Because if I think that you would, then we don’t have the relationship I thought we did, and that’s an entirely different issue. These bridges, we just have to cross them as they come.”

“That still sounds like you want him to pursue me.”

“I guess I do, in a way.”

“Because saying no proves that I’m not running.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed, nodding. “And it proves that I’m right about us.”

“And if I don’t say no?” Tommy asked quietly.

Sam thought about it for a moment, then he reached out, taking Tommy’s face in his hands. “I believe you will do what feels right for you, and I have to have faith that whatever you choose will be the right thing for all of us. And I do truly believe that you’ll find that the right thing for you, for all of us, is to stay with me. To marry me.”

Tommy closed his eyes and rubbed his face against Sam’s hands. “This is so weird. It’s weird, right?”

“It’s certainly not what I would have chosen, but, like I said, let’s cross each bridge as it comes, okay?” Sam leaned forward and touched his lips to Tommy’s, giving him a sweet, chaste kiss. “Now go be the tie breaker. Maybe if you’re back early I can take you out some place fancy for dinner.”

A little while later, Tommy parked Sam’s car in front of Lee’s house. The whole family was outside on the porch, enjoying the warm air – mom, dad, child, even godfather. Riff was climbing Adam like a tree, giggling when Adam would grab his arms and twirl him around once, before Riff could latch on again.

Tommy made his way up the walk and Adam handed his godson off to Scarlett, walking to meet him.

“Nice car.”

Tommy looked over his shoulder at the silver Porsche behind him. “Thanks. Sam had wanted one for years, so he got one for his last birthday. Hey Scarlett. Hi Riff! God, you’re so big.”

Scarlett hugged him. “Good to see you, Tommy. It’s been too long.”

Tommy was about to agree but Riff interrupted. “Wanna see my plane?”

Scarlett threw her head back, laughing. “Tommy and Uncle Adam have to work with Daddy for a while, then you can show him your plane, okay?” She laughed again and turned sparkling eyes back to Tommy. “He’s not at all shy. Gets that from his godfather, I think.”

“His mother, more like,” Adam teased, then leaned over to kiss Riff on the nose. “See ya, squirt.”

“Yeah, it’s about naptime, buddy,” Scarlett said, and as soon as she mentioned the dreaded word, Riff let out a piercing squeal. “Definitely time for a nap…”

As Scarlett wandered into the house with a very unhappy little boy in tow, Lee motioned for them to follow, amused. “He’ll be out cold in five minutes, I promise.”

Then he disappeared inside the house too. Tommy looked expectantly at Adam.

“This won’t take long. Sorry to interrupt your plans.”

“Sam was okay with it,” Tommy said in answer.

Adam just studied him, eyes soft. The last time Tommy had seen him, they’d been on the beach and Tommy had been so honest with him he’d nearly broken his own heart. He’d made up his mind that he wasn’t even going to let himself get close to Adam, to explore the possibility, then this morning, Sam had changed everything. Or, at least, it felt like he had.

Bridges, Tommy reminded himself.

“I’m glad he was okay with it,” Adam said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Tommy nodded because he didn’t trust his voice. Adam’s eyes were still on him, deep blue smattered with gray, like the ocean itself, and everything within their depths told him that Adam was remembering that night on the beach too.

“Guys?”

Adam and Tommy turned. Lee was at his door, waiting on them. Without another word they followed Lee into the house, through the kitchen and living room and out the back door, to a sunroom. On a glass table, Lee had spread out all of Adam’s photos. All three men took a seat and Lee launched into what seemed like a prepared speech.

“So the studio wants a few shots that will be promo only, for tour posters, award show commercials, things of that nature. They also want at least a dozen for Adam’s album. Front and back covers, as well as extras for the lyrics pages and one for behind the disc itself. Those will have to be a set, in other words, they all need to look like they were part of the same thing. We need the same color groups, same outfits, same types of shots, the same mood.”

Tommy nodded at Lee, understanding. He hadn’t been part of the process of finding shots for _For Your Entertainment_ , but he’d marveled at the consistency of the album art, and understood what Lee was looking for.

He leaned forward, glancing at the photographs. Even though he knew Lee’s work and had seen over a million photographs of Adam, new pictures always startled him. It seemed like Lee always caught Adam at the height of emotion, and no kind of preparation could make him ready to see all that feeling, raw or heated or otherwise.

These were no different, and it seemed as though Adam was going for pure heat in each shot. Quite literally.

Adam was pictured inside fire in one shot, his arms raised, mimicking the flames that stretched upward with him. In another, a close up of his face, the fire was absent around him but reflected in his eyes, tiny flames dancing in his pupils. In another, Adam was lying on a bed of red silk, back arched, chest bare. Sweat dripped from his brow, slipped through his hair, and created drops on his pale skin. In the shot that followed that, Adam appeared to levitate, hovering, wrapped in that silk above the flames themselves.

But in all of them, the heat of the flames was echoed back in Adam’s expression as hot desire, as burning need. Tommy knew that look. He’d seen it onstage during every performance of Fever.

Tommy inhaled, forcing his lungs to expand. He shifted in his seat and tried to ignore how suddenly tight his jeans felt.

“So the theme of the album is fire?” he asked.

“Not quite,” Lee answered, and then lifted another photo album to the table, opening it slowly. These shots were like the fire ones, the same settings and the same props, yet the feeling was completely different. Adam was covered in ash, his bright eyes glowing against his gray face. Another shot showed Adam shaking off the ash, frozen forever in midair in a cloud around him.

Tommy turned the page and the next shots were of Adam levitating again amidst a whole background of red, orange, and yellow silks. They flowed around him, giving the impression that he was soaring.

“A phoenix,” Tommy whispered as if saying it too loud would disturb the pictures. “You’re a phoenix.”

Adam nodded, smiling. “We thought it fit. The themes of the album will be redemption, second chances, rising above, that sort of thing. No matter how I end up finishing this album, that’s the message I want to get across, that mistakes don’t have to be the end.”

Tommy’s stomach clenched and he kept his eyes on the picture of Adam flying. When he could trust himself to look up, he looked straight at Lee. “It looks like you have more than enough, then, and they all fit the theme. So do you just want me to pick my favorites and help narrow it down?”

“That’s…um…” Lee cleared his throat. “That’s not exactly the decision we need from you.”

“Okay, what then?”

Lee looked to Adam for help and it was Adam who answered. Tommy forced himself to turn in Adam’s direction.

“There’s another way I could do this album, Tommy. From a more personal angle. Not just with the photos, but with the music as well.”

Tommy had to turn away because Adam’s expression was too sincere, his gaze too intense. His eyes were glowing like the picture of the ashes, with the same kind of hope of a new future.

Lee stood and lifted another album onto the table, not opening it. “I’m, um… I’m going to go check on Riff.”

Lee gave Tommy a look that could almost be pity before he made a hasty exit, and Tommy’s heart started to beat faster. “Why did he run out of here? What’s going on?”

“He and I spent all day yesterday in his studio trying to get these right. We got them right, Tommy, but I’m not sure that makes them easy to look at.”

Adam nudged the album closer to Tommy, and Tommy wanted nothing more in the world than to get up and leave and not open that album. But he cautiously held out a hand, ran it over the leather cover as if hoping to sense some sort of energy from it. Then, feeling like it took all his strength, Tommy pushed the cover over and looked at the first picture.

While the previous photos had been bright and bold, this album was subtle, filled with blues and grays. The first had Adam leaning against what looked to be the post of a front porch. Fog formed a heavy blanket around him and his eyes were fixed on something in the distance, his expression was pleading. The next shot he was mid-run, one foot on the stairs of the porch, another on the grass.

Tommy didn’t understand. He was about to question Adam, to ask why Adam was running, why he looked so upset and what was in the distance that had him pleading, but then Adam reached out and turned the page for him.

The next shot was panoramic, the fog so thick you could hardly make out that there were two figures there. One, on the left, was Adam, not running anymore but reaching out toward the other figure, arms extended. On the right side, there was nothing but a swirl of fog and a shadow, an apparition of someone running away.

The someone had blond hair.

Tommy tried to take a breath but couldn’t. Instead, he kept as still as he could and turned the page.

This photo was just Adam’s face, his gaze focused on the distance again, his eyes wet as he watched the figure walk away. On the opposite page was the same shot, from a different angle this time. It looked like maybe Lee was standing in the doorway of the house, camera aimed at Adam’s back. His silhouette was dark against the fog, his stance dejected, and beyond him, through the gray, the blond figure running away.

There were more pictures but it didn’t matter. Tommy shut the album and pushed it toward Adam, wanting to rid himself of it.

“Who is the blond?” Tommy asked after a minute, his voice rusty feeling.

“Just a model Lee knew.”

“Yes, but who is he supposed to be?”

“I think you know.”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “I didn’t leave you. That’s not what happened.”

“You left me, Tommy. It was my own fault, but that doesn’t make it untrue.” Adam slid the album back at Tommy. “Look at the last picture. If you can’t look at the rest, I understand, but look at the last one.”

Reluctantly Tommy turned the book over, and then lifted the back cover, revealing just one photograph. This was like the last he’d seen, taken from the doorway of the house, only this time Adam wasn’t alone. His arms were around another silhouette, and the shadow of a suitcase was by their feet. The fog was gone too. In its place were sunbeams, brightening the whole picture, so brilliant and vivid that they blocked a proper view of faces.

“It’s still there. Redemption, second chances, rising above, but instead of just spreading a moral here, I’m telling my story.”

Tommy sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head. “Then what does it matter? They’ll understand it’s your story, even if they don’t see these pictures. They’ll get that from the phoenix ones too.”

“No, it’s not just the pictures, Tommy.” Tommy closed his eyes and wished he could just make Adam go away. “I have music, other music. Like Too Late. Music that would make this album the personal album that I’ve wanted to do for years, the album that Karma should have been. If I can do it this way, with truth instead of flash, I’ll have that. I’ll have the masterpiece.”

“So you want to show the truth this way? Of me running from you and all the suffering YOU went through? I don’t think that’s truth, Adam. That may be how you see it, but it’s not the truth.”

“I didn’t have any other way to see it, Tommy,” Adam said gently. “You weren’t around to show me any other way.”

Tommy leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. “Everyone that sees this will hate me.”

“No, they’ll hate me.”

Tommy picked his head up, his brows knitting together in question. “How do you figure?”

“You haven’t seen the others,” Adam said, pushing the album back at him. “Besides, my music will tell the whole story. All of it, even the ugly parts.”

Tommy didn’t open the album. He couldn’t just yet. “So you want to know if you can make this album instead of the other?”

“Yeah. I want your permission to record these songs and sing them. On tour. Every night. Do you understand what that means?”

Tommy understood it. He felt it like a chill sinking through his skin to his bones. Every night they’d be on a stage in front of thousands, reliving every step of their past in music. Every night he’d hear Adam say no, every night he’d run to New York, every night he’d come back and Adam would try to convince him there was still something there between them.

Tommy opened the album to the last picture. “Seems like you’ve already written the ending.”

Adam gave him a soft smile. “I can hope. And who knows? Maybe after seeing it on stage every night for a few months, you might believe it too.”

“So that’s your plan? Get me away from Sam, sing all of this music about us and brainwash me into believing it?”

“Well, I wasn’t going for brainwashing,” Adam said, and damned if he wasn’t smirking. “Falling in love with me or remembering that you’re in love with me, sure.”

“No, then,” Tommy said, and Adam’s face fell. “I won’t let you do that. Not to me, not to Sam. Make the other album. Who cares if it’s not personal? Karma had what? Six number ones on it? Your fans won’t give a shit if it’s not real.”

“Don’t you see it works for them too? Yeah, some enjoyed Karma and loved every song. But I lost a lot of them. They expected more and I really let them down. This isn’t just going to be about you and me, Tommy, it’s about me and everyone I’ve let down, everyone I’ve disappointed. Redemption. And second chances. And hopefully, happy endings.”

Tommy knew Adam wasn’t lying. He’d really thought about this and he understood now. He was a metaphor. Their whole relationship reflected what Adam saw as his own failings and his own hopes for change and happiness.

“I understand if you don’t want me to do this, but I thought you should make the call.”

Tommy stared at the picture. The model was perfect, whoever he was. It really looked like him in Adam’s arms, not some stranger. God, had they always looked that perfect together?

“What’s the album called?” Tommy asked.

“Rise, as it stands now. If you let me rewrite it, I’m going to call it Return.”

Tommy kept his gaze locked on the picture. “Return,” he mused. “Because you want me and the whole world to return to you.”

“I think of it more as me doing the returning,” Adam said quietly.

Tommy folded the cover over so that he couldn’t look at his twin in Adam’s arms anymore. Then he looked down at his hands, which he folded in his lap. “Please don’t make Return.”

Tommy could see Adam nod in his periphery. “Okay. Rise it is.”

The disappointment and sadness etched in every syllable made Tommy’s eyes prickle with tears. As Adam stretched his arms out across the table to gather all the pictures close, Tommy laid a hand over his.

“Adam, you have to make Return.”

“I know,” he whispered. “It’ll kill me not to.”

“But I can’t lose Sam. I told you that. I won’t lose him. And this…” Tommy tapped a finger on the photo album that would accompany Return. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t playing fair at all.”

“I don’t mean to be unfair, Tommy. And believe it or not, I don’t want to steal you from Sam. I meant what I said the other night. This isn’t about me being better than him. It’s about you doing what’s right for you, about you being happy. I don’t want to steal you, I want you to leave him and be with me because you can’t imagine it otherwise.”

Tommy shook his head. “You want me to come to you, he wants me to walk away from you, don’t either of you understand that all I can do is walk in circles? I don’t know what else to do. You say you don’t want to steal me and yet you’re going to be singing these songs to me every night. He says he wants me to be able to leave you behind and yet sends me to you to be tempted. I don’t know what to do, Adam, but walk in circles.”

Adam squinted at Tommy. “He sent you to me?”

Tommy nodded. “We had plans but he said I should see you today. He says he trusts that I’ll do the right thing and he trusts that I’ll know the right thing is being with him.”

Adam snorted and closed his eyes. “Jesus, that man is smart…”

“What do you mean?”

“No. I told him this wasn’t a competition and I wouldn’t make him a target. I think that should include speaking ill of him when he’s not here.”

“Adam…” Tommy warned.

Adam sighed, relenting. “Tell me that’s not the heaviest guilt trip in the world, what he said to you.”

“Maybe,” Tommy agreed, “but isn’t it the truth, too?”

“I can’t make that call,” Adam said, then he grew quiet. A few moments passed, in which they could hear Lee and Scarlett laughing in the distant kitchen. Then Adam said, “Come over.”

“What?” Tommy asked.

“Come over. If he’s fine with you spending time with me and trusts you’ll make good decisions and all that, come over.”

“No,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“I’m not asking for anything but your time, Tommy. And I promise, I won’t make a move.” When Tommy shook his head no again, Adam merely smiled. “If you’re going to walk away, you have to be near me first.”

Tommy snorted at that but said, “No, Adam.”

“You could call and ask his permission. Then he can repeat what he said to you this morning about blah blah blah I trust you’ll make the right decision, which is me of course, blah blah blah.”

Tommy covered his mouth, trying to keep from laughing. He lifted up his foot and kicked Adam playfully in the shins. “Fine, you bastard, I’ll come over. But don’t make me hit you again.” Tommy waited until they’d both sobered to add, “If he really meant what he said this morning, why does it feel like hanging out with you is calling his bluff?”

“Maybe it is, a little,” Adam said, then he smiled. “But let’s not think about that. Let’s just get some food and maybe watch boring TV. None of this walking in circles stuff, okay? Just stop for a while. Stop and just be with me.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, agreeing, and it was settled. Soon Tommy was racing Sam’s car down the highway, following Adam to his house.

He didn’t call Sam to tell him he wouldn’t be home for a while.

*

“Velvet Goldmine?”

Tommy lifted a brow at Adam, who was sifting through his shelves of DVDs. “How about something a little more neutral?”

Adam grinned and moved on, his fingertips skimming the top of every DVD in the row until resting on one in particular. “Moulin Rouge?”

“You really want to see Ewan MacGregor tonight, don’t you?”

“Pretty please?”

“Moulin Rouge it is.”

Adam did a little dance of joy while he extracted the DVD from its case and readied the room for movie watching. Tommy giggled at him and settled into one end of Adam’s couch while Adam turned off the lights and pressed play. They had a bottle of red on the coffee table, ready to go, and a delivery guy was on the way with a pizza from a greasy joint Tommy loved. Outside the windows, L.A.’s skyline twinkled in the twilit sky, the setting sun creating a soft peach canopy over the town.

Sam would be noting his absence any time now, Tommy thought. He leaned forward, picked up a glass full of wine, and snuggled back into the seat.

As soon as the maestro began to conduct the first strains of music, “The hills are alive….” Adam began to talk. Tommy grinned. How had he forgotten that you never actually watch a movie with Adam? You talk through it, run commentary, even act it out.

“So, the bad news is, recording Return instead of Rise is going to take an extra two months, at least…”

Tommy watched Christian bang away at his typewriter on screen while keeping both ears attuned to Adam’s words, and drank deeply from his glass.

“Will they let you?” Tommy asked. He’d interrupted Adam but sometimes that was the only way to get a word in edgewise.

“They have to,” Adam replied. “Well, they don’t have to. But there’s no reason not to. We haven’t booked dates for the tour yet so there’s no deadline, exactly. And it’ll still be out way before Grammy consideration.” Tommy watched Adam shrug and drink from his own glass of wine. “They need to trust me. I’ve proved to them that I can sell. They need to trust that I can be an artist too, not just an interpreter.”

“Play them the music, Adam. They’ll trust that,” Tommy said, but he studied Adam with concern. “They’re going to be pissed, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” Adam finished his glass in one big gulp and reached for the bottle. “I don’t think they’ll drop me, I’ve made them too rich, but if I don’t do this their way, at least a little bit, I’m going to be in trouble.”

Tommy understood that. He’d been around in the business enough to know that the artists never had the final say. “Well, fight what you can. We’re here for you.”

Adam looked over at him, smiling softly. “I know. Thanks.”

Then they were quiet. It wasn’t until Satine and Christian were dancing on top of the elephant that it dawned on him that Adam wasn’t watching the movie.

He turned his head, meeting Adam’s eyes. “What?”

Adam, Tommy realized with a thrill, was gazing at him dreamily, like some poor schmuck in a romantic comedy.

“Nothing.”

“Adam…”

Adam turned away but even in the dim light of the movie, Tommy could see a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I like your alternate universe theory.”

Tommy straightened. “My what?”

“The alternate universe thing,” Adam re-stated, as if that explained it. When Tommy only looked at him quizzically, Adam sighed and set his glass of wine down so that he could talk with his hands. “You said last week at the beach that you wanted to know what the alternate universe was like. I assumed you meant the universe where I didn’t turn you down like an idiot and you never went to New York. Or maybe you just meant a universe where we went for it now, and found out what could happen between us. I don’t know. Either way, I like the thought.”

“That there’s an alternate universe?” Tommy asked, still a bit lost.

“Yeah. That somewhere out there, we’re together. Even if it is a whole different universe.”

“Adam…” Tommy said again, this time as a warning.

“I know,” Adam said, putting his hands up in the air like he was a dealer showing he wasn’t hiding a card up his sleeve. “I promised I wouldn’t make a move. But I didn’t promise I wouldn’t say anything sappy and cute.”

Tommy chuckled at that. “So you think there’s another Tommy and Adam out there, huh?”

“No,” Adam replied, voice sad. “I think this is our one shot, really. But it’s nice to think that maybe in another dimension, Tommy and Adam aren’t sitting on opposite ends of a couch. Maybe they’re cuddled up to each other instead.”

Tommy allowed himself to imagine it, just for a few glorious seconds. His body folded up, wrapped up in Adam’s, his head on Adam’s shoulder, his heart thudding along in his chest to the beat that Adam’s provided, their smells combining, breathing the same small patch of air.

He pushed the thought away, but it didn’t seem to matter. His imagination was too good, too strong. He could smell Adam’s expensive cologne, the herbs of his organic shampoo, the wine on his breath. He could feel the heat of Adam’s skin, the tickle of his fingertips, the soft hair of his forearms.

Tommy leaned forward, put his wine glass on the coffee table, and said, “Come here.”

“What?” Adam whispered.

Tommy jerked his head, come hither, but even as he did it, his brain said no. It said, “Sam.” His eyes filled.

“Tommy,” Adam said, unsure.

“I need to be close to you, Adam,” Tommy explained. “It’s wrong, but it might be right, and either way I need you close.”

Adam appeared to think about it, then he consented. He set his wine glass down as well and moved slowly toward him on the couch, until they were touching, but he didn’t dare put his arms around Tommy.

Tommy reached over, took one of Adam’s hands, and brought it across his body, to his waist. He smiled sadly at Adam. “We’re entering another dimension.”

Adam laughed and the sound seemed to dispel the tension between them. Adam enfolded Tommy into his arms and Tommy sank into him, his head falling neatly into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I like this dimension.”

Tommy didn’t say anything in return but breathed Adam in, his nose running along the scratchy underside of Adam’s chin.

“We can’t stay here long, can we?”

“No,” Tommy said. “And we can’t travel too far in, okay?”

Adam nodded against Tommy’s head. They watched the movie for a while. Adam hummed the theme of Come What May as soon as Christian wrote the first notes. Tommy closed his eyes and listened to Adam’s voice, high and sweet as a breeze in a New York autumn.

He suddenly wished he’d called Sam to let him know where he was.

“Adam,” Tommy said, and he felt Adam pick his head up to look at him. He should tell Adam he needs to go home, or that, at the very least, he should call Sam. Instead, he asked, “In the alternate universe to this alternate universe, what are Adam and Tommy doing?”

Adam hummed and set his head back down on top of Tommy’s. “Well, I think they’re probably asleep already because in this perfect world, Adam’s been working on Return for a while now and it was a long day in the studio.” Adam paused to laugh at that. “But maybe they’re kissing. Or… maybe they’ve given up on the movie altogether and they’re in Adam’s bedroom…”

Tommy made a whimpering sound at that and shifted himself so that he was closer to Adam, so that more of his body was touching more of Adam’s. Adam leaned back, away from him, and Tommy looked up at him in question.

“Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Adam explained. “I don’t want you to go home and regret anything. I mean it. I told Sam I didn’t want you to have to hide anything from him, and I meant that too.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, confused and a bit hurt at that. If he was truthful with himself he might have said that he’d hoped Adam wouldn’t do the right thing, that Adam would cross the line so that Adam would be the one to blame. But that was unfair. And cowardly. “I should go home.”

“Maybe.”

Just then, Tommy’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Tommy separated himself from Adam even more and dug it out. His home number flashed on the screen.

“Sam?” Adam asked, and Tommy nodded. “Yeah. Get home. I’m sorry I’ve kept you so late.”

“You haven’t kept me,” Tommy said. On Adam’s big screen, Christian was singing in misery as Satine went to the Duke to spend the night. Tommy didn’t answer his phone.

“I’ve asked a lot of you, though.”

Tommy didn’t disagree, though he wanted to add that perhaps he’d given too much as well. He started to push himself up off the couch when Adam’s arms wrapped around him again, pulling him tightly against his chest.

“I love you, Tommy. Thank you. For, you know, coming over and… the alternate universe thing.” Adam shrugged. “It was so good to hold you for a while.”

Tommy laid a hand on Adam’s cheek. “I…” _I love you, too,_ he thought, but the words didn’t come out. “I’ll see you next week?”

Adam nodded. “I’ll get the studio time sorted out and give you a call. Be careful driving home.”

Tommy left and shivered the whole way home, missing Adam’s warmth.

When he opened the door to his condo, Sam was on the couch. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, a pair of pajama bottoms that had been his father’s at one time, and his reading glasses. A glass of red wine sat next to him on an end table, and a well-worn copy of _American Gods_ was in his hand. He looked up from his reading, taking his glasses off slowly, and gave Tommy a big smile.

“Welcome home.”

Tommy took a deep breath. “I’ve been at Adam’s.”

Sam nodded. “I figured. Are you alright? Is there anything we need to talk about?”

Tommy looked at Sam’s handsome face, his pretty hazel eyes, and warmth spread through his veins, slowly working from his heart outward, until his entire body was comfortable and cozy. “God I love you, Sam,” he said as if it had just dawned on him. “I really fucking love you.”

Sam set his book and glasses next to his wine, still smiling. “I know you do. That’s why that whole marriage thing is going to work with us.”

“I know. I know it will. But I just…” Tommy wiped at his nose, because damned if he was going to cry right now, but he was sniffly regardless.

“Tommy. Come here. Tell me.”

The calm, level notes of Sam’s voice gave Tommy no other choice but to go to Sam and curl up by his side. Sam’s arms wrapped around him instantly, as strong and warm as Adam’s, as soothing and welcoming and wonderful. And his scent was familiar – the same shampoo he used himself, the cologne he’d been smelling on his pillow for two years.

“Don’t hate me,” Tommy said.

“Never,” Sam whispered back.

“I spent all evening with him, Sam. Just… wondering… and God… feeling and…. Scared. So fucking scared. And confused. And I just don’t know… I don’t understand how I can feel what I do, how I need…” Tommy took a hiccupping breath and Sam pulled him even closer. “Then I get home and it doesn’t matter. Whatever I feel for him or the alternate universe or whatever, it doesn’t matter. Because I love you so much and you’re so right and even if he’s right, you’re right. More right. Righter. I’m not making sense, I know I’m just… just so happy to be home. With you.”

“I’m happy you’re home with me too,” Sam said. He kissed Tommy gently. “But do you love him?”

Tommy shook his head, his blond hair dangling down in his face. “I can walk away, Sam. See? I can walk away. I can come home to you and everything’s fine. Everything’s okay.”

“And you don’t wonder about what it would be like with him? And you don’t think about him? You don’t love him when you’re with me?”

“I never said I love him.”

“No, but you don’t need to.” Sam tried to smile. “And you won’t lose me if you say it. I’ve been thinking about that.”

Tommy cocked his head to one side, and Sam shrugged. He reached up and tucked Tommy’s hair behind his ear, and said, “All night I’ve been scared shitless. But confused too. You’re not the only one who’s confused. I kept imagining what could be happening, every fucking scary thing that you could have been doing with him, and yet also hoping in this strange way that… that you’ll figure it out. That if you’re with him then it’s because you need to be with him, to be happy. That’s the only thing I really want, Tommy. Your happiness. And if that doesn’t mean me, well…”

Sam didn’t finish his thought, and Tommy got the impression that it wasn’t because it was too hard for him to say. It was that Sam didn’t know _how_ to finish it. Then Tommy realized, for the first time, what it meant that Sam had a glass of wine next to him. Sam never drank alone anymore, and really, only had a drink in social situations and limited himself to one.

Tommy pressed his lips to Sam’s, tasting him, breathing him, giving himself back. When he drew away he said, “You’re the one who makes me happy. I’m serious, Sam. I can walk away from him. I don’t need him like I need you.”

“And you’d be happy with that? Without him in your life?”

Tommy felt his face fall and Sam closed his eyes. Tommy’s heart sank into his stomach. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. He loves me and I never thought I’d hear him say that and now, the possibility and knowing it I… I can’t imagine my life without him. I can imagine telling him it’ll never happen and being friends with him, nothing more, but…”

“But you can’t imagine going back to New York, not seeing him every day,” Sam finished for him, and Tommy nodded in agreement. “And I’m willing to bet that in this life you’ve imagined as just his friend, you also see how hard it is to be near him but not really be with him. You see how you’ll have to say to him not once, but every day, ‘I’m Sam’s.’”

It was exactly like Tommy was imagining it, painfully saying to himself, to Adam, to everyone every day for the rest of his life, “It’s only Sam I love.”

And it was a goddamn lie.

Tommy couldn’t admit it, couldn’t agree with Sam’s words. The only thing he could allow himself to say was, “I’m so sorry…”

He felt Sam nod but he didn’t push him away, instead he tightened his grip on Tommy and Tommy let his body get as small as possible in Sam’s arms. He listened to Sam breathe, slow, shallow and shaking breaths that seemed futile.

“What do I do?” Sam asked, and Tommy curled into him even more, ashamed of himself. “What do I do, Tommy? Because I want all of you but part of you is his. So what do I do?”

Tommy wanted to say so much. To tell Sam again that he was sorry, to tell him he would be okay without Adam – maybe not complete, but okay – to tell him again that what he felt for Adam was so different, so separate. But then Sam spoke again, stopping his thoughts.

“You know what the scariest thing is, though?” Sam asked, and Tommy picked his head up, looking into Sam’s wet, pretty eyes before saying that no, he didn’t. “The scariest thing is that as I was sitting here tonight, imagining you with him, thinking about how you love him too, I had the crazy thought that it doesn’t matter.”

“What?” Tommy whispered, confused.

“I love you so much, Tommy. If I can’t have all of you, then… I’ll take what I can get. Anything you’re willing to give me.”

The admission hit Tommy in the gut, so much so that he took a gasping breath as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “I want to give you everything.”

“I know,” Sam said back. “I believe that. But I’m not sure it’s possible. So… what do we do?”

Tommy closed his eyes and heard himself beg, “I don’t know, but don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Never, aren’t you listening? I’m never going to leave you, Tommy, unless you tell me to. I want to marry you, and I will.”

“But how…?”

“I don’t know,” Sam mumbled, then he lifted one of his hands off of Tommy’s skin and picked up his glass of wine. He finished it off and set the glass down, and Tommy could see in his eyes that he was thinking, planning. All the brilliant gears in his head were turning. Then he took a deep breath, forced a smile at Tommy, and the gears came to a halt. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry, we will. Just not tonight.”

He kissed Tommy then, slow and lingering, and when he pulled away, his eyes were swirling with emotion. “You smell like him.”

“I can shower.”

Sam shook his head. “No. Just come to bed. Be with me and don’t think about him.”

“I never do,” Tommy said, and that wasn’t a lie at all, and he let Sam pull him up and towards their bed.

*

Adam threw open his door and welcomed Tommy and Sam with an exuberant, if not a little slurred, “You’re here! Oh my god, so glad you came.”

Adam watched Tommy’s right eyebrow rise to a point. “I thought you said this was a small gathering,” he said, peering around Adam and into his crowded, noisy apartment.

Adam cast a glance over his shoulder and shrugged. “It’s only fifty people or so.”

Tommy only shook his head and next to him, Sam was smirking. Adam waved them in and shut the door behind them.

Mere hours ago, Adam had received word from the label that they were going to give him the time he needed to record Return the way he wanted to. They weren’t exactly enthusiastic about it but they were intrigued, and since he had been such a big seller for them, they figured it was okay to take a chance. While Nigel and the rest of his team had put in a conference call, discussing how to market the new incarnation of Adam Lambert, Adam had sent texts to all his local friends:

“Small gathering at la Casa de Lambert tonight. Bring yourself. Booze provided.”

Then he’d thrown up about a bajillion Christmas lights and moved the furniture out of the way to make a dance floor and had Brent, his nervous assistant, buy enough liquor to get everyone at the party sufficiently trashed three times over.

“What can I get you to drink?” Adam asked before rolling his eyes at himself. “Never mind. Whiskey for Tommy and Sam… what’s your poison?”

Sam hesitated, and Adam recalled the Wikipedia entry he’d read and regretted offering.

But Sam gave him a smile and all was well. “Beer if you’ve got it.”

“Light or dark?”

“Dark. Always.”

Adam turned to Tommy, eyeing him with suspicion. “I hope you’ve learned something from him. That shit you drink is rat piss.”

“You shut your filthy mouth about my Corona habit.”

“Corona’s fine. That Coors shit, however…”

Tommy playfully punched Adam’s shoulder before he left them to go get the drinks. He returned, two doubles in one hand for Tommy and himself, and a beer in the other for Sam. They sipped silently while watching a small mass of people gyrate on Adam’s makeshift dance floor.

It was strange, being with Tommy with Sam there too. Not like the easy, relaxed feeling he had alone with Tommy the other night. But the strangest part was that it wasn’t exactly _uncomfortable_ with Sam there, either. It wasn’t like he was going to put his arms around Tommy right in front of Sam – he wouldn’t have been that stupid or disrespectful – but Sam didn’t seem inclined to touch Tommy with Adam there either, their truce carrying over into the physical realm.

Or maybe Adam was just imagining things.

Either way, Sam and Tommy weren’t hanging all over each other, and that was just fine by Adam.

“Congrats on being able to write Return.”

It was Tommy who spoke, but Sam nodded. Almost, Adam thought, sincerely, which made him wonder how much Sam knew about the album concept.

“Thanks. I guess it’s a gamble on their part. Well, mine too,” he said. He took a long pull of whiskey and was trying to think of something else to say when the door opened and a troop of his friends from Wicked entered. “Oh my god. Tommy, you have to meet some people.”

Though Adam had spoken only to Tommy, he beckoned in a wide way, asking Sam to follow as well, and the three made the rounds.

Adam tried, he really did, to include Sam in the various conversations, even if he did smile a little too fake when introducing him as "Tommy's boyfriend." But it was Tommy he wanted to show off. It was his return they wanted to discuss, his place on the record and tour, and a lot of them nosily wanted to know his place in Adam's life.

And maybe, as the hour grew late and the booze in his glass disappeared, Adam may have let them all believe that Tommy's place in his life was bigger than he had a right to make it.

Adam wasn't sure exactly when Sam stopped bothering to trail behind them, but at some point he noticed that Sam was no longer there, politely lingering back a few steps as Adam and Tommy talked to friends. Adam had his arm around Tommy's waist, a subtle gesture of possession, and Tommy was touching right back, leaning into him, snuggling close, looking at him with those big beautiful eyes, so happy he almost seemed drunk with it.

Adam wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten about Sam.

“So glad that you two finally got together,” a woman one of Adam’s straight friends had brought as a date said, and that’s when it dawned on Adam that maybe he’d crossed a line.

It had obviously occurred to Tommy too. He paled to bright white, and Adam let go of him.

“Sorry. Maybe you should find Sam.”

“Fuck. I was just—”

“Having a good time, I know,” Adam said. He glanced around the party but didn’t see Sam anywhere, so he kissed the top of Tommy’s head and said, “Go. I’ll be here.”

Tommy went to search for Sam and Adam found himself in the middle of his party, feeling lonely. He went to the kitchen, planning on getting another drink, but as he glanced out the kitchen windows he could see a familiar figure out on his terrace, a silhouette like a ghost against the dark evening sky.

Adam poured himself a whopping portion of whiskey and went through his bedroom and beyond, out the sliding glass doors that led to his terrace.

“I see you found my favorite room in the place,” Adam said gently, as to not startle Sam.

Sam turned. In the dimness of the residual Christmas lights, he could see Sam’s face was drawn, and exhaustion tinted his eyes to a dull, muddy green. “Sorry. The door was closed but I guess I was curious. Your bedroom’s nice. So is this. We had one, in New York. A terrace, I mean. Two levels. One was like a garden in the summertime. Tommy has a green thumb, can you believe it? He’s great with our garden in Ohio, but even in the city, he can always get something to bloom.”

“Of course. Anything Tommy loves can bloom.”

Sam nodded and turned his face back to the view of the city. The breeze lifted his hair again, just like it had on the beach, and Adam stared at him once more, slightly awed. It was no wonder Tommy was drawn to him, no wonder Tommy wanted to go home to this man, to wake up next to him, to spend the day beside someone so handsome. Adam knew he could be handsome himself, sometimes even beautiful, but there was effort in it. With Sam, it was easy. Natural. There in the first light of morning and remaining throughout the day without a smudge of makeup or a dollop of product.

“He looks so happy with you.”

Sam’s voice pulled Adam from his thoughts, and he moved toward him until he was leaning, elbows on the railing, just like Sam. “I really didn’t mean to take him from you all night.”

“No. It just kind of happens when you’re with him, doesn’t it?” Sam asked. He turned to Adam, trying to smile. “He forgets that anything else exists.”

“I thought the same about you with him at Sutan’s bonfire.”

Sam turned back, his eyes not on the skyline but in the heavens, as if searching for stars. Adam wondered if they saw them in New York, or if Sam merely missed the clear skies of Ohio.

“Yeah. He’s really in love with both of us, isn’t he?” Though Adam couldn’t answer that for sure, he made a noise of agreement in his throat and Sam continued on. “I didn’t want to believe that or even think it was possible, but seeing him with you tonight… I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Adam wasn’t quite sure what to say in return, but Sam was being so open that he decided to match it, secret for secret. “I haven’t been sure, really. I mean, he looks at me like he used to but you’re always there in his head. The other night when he was here, just the idea of being there made him so conflicted, Sam. And I knew he wanted to be there but he also missed you and, I don’t know. It was the weirdest feeling, knowing that, but also, I didn’t… I didn’t mind, I guess.”

“Because it doesn’t make anything different between you, that he loves me.”

“Right, exactly,” Adam agreed. “I mean, no, it is different, because there are rules he can’t break and I don’t want him to. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me, and I think I get that now.”

Sam finished off his beer and set the empty bottle on a little glass table next to him. “He needs you. I don’t think he’s ever going to be content again with just me, with going back to New York and settling down, doing the family thing. And that scares the fuck out of me.”

The admission socked Adam in the gut and he felt compelled to deny it. “No. He’d be fine. You’re permanent. You’re his husband. I’m just… a missed opportunity he’s exploring. That’s it.”

“No,” Sam said with a violent shake of his head. “He needs you. Maybe in a different way than he needs me. Or maybe it’s the same. I don’t know. Does that even make sense?”

It made perfect sense, even though Adam couldn’t begin to explain how it worked. He nodded. “He’s right with me. He’s right with you. So it makes sense that he could be right with both of us at the same time.”

Sam leaned over the railing, eyes pointed down at the pavement below. “Yes. But even if I can admit that or understand it, I’m not sure I can live with it.”

Adam took a big swallow of whiskey. “So what do we do?”

“We do what hurts.”

A sickening chill worked its way through Adam’s chest. “I don’t share well.”

“Neither do I,” Sam said, then he turned and looked Adam in the eye. “But we agreed to do what’s best for Tommy. If he needs us both, then we give him that.”

Adam shook his head. “It won’t work. Look at tonight. We might have agreed to treat each other fairly with this whole thing but here you are, out here because Tommy and I were careless and too self-involved to notice what we were doing.”

“I think that’s par for the course, isn’t it? We’ll have to lay down some rules. Maybe one of them can be that we’re not all three in the same place, ever,” Sam suggested. “That would take the pressure off Tommy, at least.”

Adam knew what Sam meant. Tommy wouldn’t want to be unfair to either of them. He’d make himself sick worrying about it.

Adam looked out over the city, though his mind was seeing something infinitely different. He was envisioning rules and possibly schedules and complications and worse, he was seeing how full and happy his home would be with Tommy in it, and how lonely and sad it would be on the days he was with Sam.

“Are you really suggesting this, Sam? Suggesting that Tommy will be… with both of us?”

“I guess I am. I don’t see any other way. Do you?”

Adam didn’t, but he wasn’t satisfied with that answer regardless. Sharing Tommy wasn’t enough. He wanted all of Tommy. All the time.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We can sit here and bullshit all we want about how we don’t feel any less loved when he loves both of us, but we know it’s not true. Not really. Because I can’t accept it. I don’t want to accept it. I want him for myself.”

“You think I don’t feel that? Fuck, Adam. Tommy and I are supposed to get married and have a child with our best friend and—”

“Grow old together? Just like you and Landon?”

The shock registered for a split second on Sam’s face before turning to pure anger. “How dare you even…don’t even say his name. You don’t have a clue—”

Adam held up a hand, silencing him. “I didn’t mean that to hurt you, Sam. I was just pointing out that it’s clearly possible that we can be meant for more than one person. It just so happens that Tommy’s meant for us both at the same time.”

Sam backed off, his shoulders relaxing. “I know. It’s something I’ve thought a lot about. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I just…”

“I know,” Adam said, and because he could practically feel the pain radiating from Sam, he reached out and gently touched his arm. Sam sucked in a sharp breath at the touch but didn’t pull away. “So what now?”

Sam turned around, leaning his back against the railing. “I’m going to head home.”

“I meant about this situation. What do we do about Tommy?”

“Adam, listen to me,” Sam said, leaning closer to Adam. “I’m going home. Just me.”

His meaning clicked into place inside Adam’s brain and his heart started to do a jig beneath his ribcage. Adam knew he should ask something like, “ Are you sure?” or “Are you out of your fucking mind?” but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Tommy won’t go for it. He’ll see it as hurting you.”

“Of course he will. But I’m not an idiot, Adam. I’m quite brilliant, actually. That said, it doesn’t take a brilliant mind to know what road the two of you are heading down, especially since he loves you like he does. He wants this. And who knows? Maybe he’ll get you out of his system or better, maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t want you at all.”

“Or maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t need you like he thought.”

Sam’s face paled, though his expression remained unchanged. “He might. But isn’t that the gamble we’re taking with this? If we open this up, we might never be able to close it again.”

“That’s one hell of a risk. Aren’t you scared?”

“Terrified,” Sam answered quickly and bluntly.

“So why do this, then?”

“Because neither of us is going to back down and this is the way that Tommy’s least likely to get caught in the crossfire, don’t you see that?” Adam nodded, and Sam frowned. “This is what he needs. I don’t care about anything else. Or at least, I’m going to suck it up and deal with it because as much as I hate that he loves you, I hate seeing him sad even more.”

At that moment, the door behind them slid open, and Tommy stepped out, sighing with relief. “Oh thank fuck. I couldn’t find either of you and I thought—”

“Don’t worry. We haven’t even tried to push each other off yet,” Sam said, and smiled wide at his boyfriend.

Tommy laughed, looking nervously between them. “So everything’s okay?”

“Just fine. We’ve managed to keep insults to a minimum, too,” Adam said, and his heart swelled when Tommy smiled at that. “We love you a lot, you know that? Both of us. So much.”

Sam laughed, dark, as if on the edge. “So fucking much we’re out of our minds.”

“What?” Tommy asked, head tilting to one side. “What does that mean?”

Sam straightened and went to Tommy, taking both his hands in his. “I’m going to go home, Tommy. And I want you to stay here. Tonight. With Adam.”

“With Adam,” Tommy repeated slowly enough for the meaning to sink in. “What? No. No, Sam.”

“Remember what we were saying about walking away? How you need to be close before you can do that?”

“You want me to sleep with him?” Tommy asked, voice rising.

“I think you should stay with him tonight.” Sam swallowed, then forced out the next words. “What you do here would be up to you.”

Tommy shook his head. “You know I love you, Sam, but I can’t… if I’m here with him all night, I…”

“I know,” Sam said. “You love him. I can’t expect you to say no, not if it’s anything like the way you love me.”

“I don’t.”

“Tommy…” Tommy met Adam’s eyes, and Adam lost his breath. “Do you?” he asked. “Do you love me?”

Tommy turned back to Sam, eyes pleading, but Sam only reached out and took his hand. “Tell him. Tell me. It’s okay.”

“No.”

“Tommy,” Adam said, whispering just loudly enough to be heard. “Please.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead wrinkling up painfully. “I love you, Adam,” he said, and then opened his eyes, looking tearfully at Sam. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for telling the truth. Didn’t it feel good to finally tell me?” Sam waited for Tommy to nod yes, then gently took Tommy’s face in his hands. “Stay here tonight. Find out what you want. If you want me, come home to me and I will be the happiest man in the world. If you want him, well, that’s something that I suppose I’ll have to try to accept. But if you want both of us...”

Tommy eyes widened at the suggestion, and Sam went on. “If you want both of us, Adam and I think that’s okay too. We think we can do that.”

Tommy started to say no, to argue again, but then Adam stepped behind him and wrapped him up in his arms. Tommy’s body went limp, his whole being changing, surrendering, giving over. Tommy held on to Sam’s hands but sank back into Adam, stretching against him as if his body couldn’t bear to be separate from Adam’s at all, even an inch.

Over Tommy’s shoulder, Adam watched Sam’s expression change – a glint of steel first, then softening back to warmth. He leaned in closer to Tommy and rested a palm against his cheek. Tommy turned his face into Sam’s hand, kissing him.

“I see how you are with him. I know you want this. Stay.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but Adam buried his face into the back of Tommy’s neck, his lips moving over Tommy’s skin as he repeated Sam’s request, “Stay, Tommy,” and the argument was futile. Tommy sank into Adam even more, a satisfied hum in his throat.

But then he jolted in Adam’s arms, pushing away from him and pulling at Sam. “I’ll lose you.”

Sam kissed Tommy hard on the mouth. “You won’t. I told you. Never.”

“You say that now, Sam, but tomorrow? When I get home tomorrow after being with him all night you won’t say that. You won’t even be able to look at me.”

“Tomorrow I will just be happy you came home,” Sam said, voice hitching, breaking, and so earnest. “So… come home. Please.”

And Sam, who looked like he couldn’t take anymore of the conversation, kissed Tommy again on the lips and told Tommy he loved him one more time, and hurriedly made for the door.

Adam let go of Tommy and jogged after Sam, calling for him as soon as he set foot in his bedroom. Sam was at the other door, ready to open it and sprint through the party, to flee this place as fast as he could.

“Thank you,” Adam said, and Sam opened his mouth to say something. What, Adam could only imagine. A warning, perhaps, a threatening statement about what he could do if Adam stole Tommy away. Perhaps a reminder of the rules of their truce. Perhaps something far less polite.

  
But Sam’s shoulders sagged and he said, almost like a sigh, “Be good to him,” and walked out the door.

When Adam went back out on the terrace, Tommy was wiping at his eyes. He turned to Adam, expression fierce. “Why would he do this? Does he want me to be with you? Does he want a reason to get rid of me?”

“Tommy. Are you really asking that about Sam?” Adam asked, and Tommy looked at him, floored. “Come on. I may not understand the guy but I know he loves you. He wouldn’t fight me so hard if he didn’t. He loves you so much that he’s willing to step out of the way if there’s a chance that someone else might make you happier. And shit, I hope I can, but if not… I love you that much too, okay? If we find out tonight that he truly makes you happier, then I’ll learn to live with it.”

Tommy looked away and kept his gaze trained on the skyline of the city, even as Adam pulled him into his arms, even as he sank back into Adam’s embrace automatically, as if that was where he was supposed to be.

“You love me.”

Tommy hesitated before saying, “Yeah. I do.”

“Say it again?”

Finally, Tommy cracked a smile, his body feeling lighter in Adam’s arms. “No. You’ll get a big head about it.”

“Whatever. You love me. Let me hear you say it again.”

Tommy turned around, facing Adam, his expression sober once again. “I love you. But Adam... that doesn’t mean I’m willing to lose him for you.”

“He gave us tonight, okay? And I’m not asking you for anything but a chance, and for you to not hold back if you don’t want to.” Adam brushed Tommy’s bangs out of his eyes. “So let’s just treat this like a gift. Let’s enjoy it and not think about how much it cost Sam, or what it might cost me or you. That way if you leave me in the morning and say this will never happen again, at least we had this. Okay?”

When Tommy didn’t answer, Adam leaned down, pressing his mouth softly against Tommy’s. Tommy jerked back, shaking his head, fresh tears in his eyes. “No. No, I can’t.”

“Tommy,” Adam said, voice deep. “Do you want to kiss me?” Tommy hesitated a moment, and then nodded. “Then kiss me.”

There was a moment, a second hanging in time, when Adam didn’t know whether Tommy was going to kiss him or run. Tommy stared at him, his face so filled with emotion it was unreadable, and time ticked away with gut-clenching anticipation, with anxiousness, with hope. And just when Adam felt that hope start to leave him, Tommy launched himself at him, his mouth crashing down on Adam’s with clumsy force and rapturous intent.

Adam made a startled noise and reached back, bracing himself against the railing of the terrace until both of them were stable. He gripped Tommy tight, as tight as Tommy was gripping him, and started to kiss back, to give as good as he was getting. The shock had worn off and now it was all feeling – Tommy’s warm wet mouth, his whiskey-flavored tongue, his thin body of angles and soft skin, his groaning breaths.

Adam’s hands wandered down over Tommy’s ass, pulling up, and Tommy let himself be pulled until his legs wrapped around Adam’s waist. Their mouths didn’t miss a beat, licking at each other, lips and teeth colliding without finesse even as Adam stumbled toward his bedroom. He pried open the door with his foot and nearly stumbled when Tommy chose that moment to grind himself down on Adam and moan so loudly into his mouth that Adam couldn’t even hear his own thoughts.

Somehow, through no fault of their own, they managed to find the bed and tumbled onto it. The jolt allowed them both a second to catch their breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Adam murmured. Tommy was still in his arms, still wrapped around him, so he pulled back to look at Tommy’s face.

Adam’s heart sank when he saw that Tommy was squeezing his eyes shut and the fingers he lifted to his temples were shaking.

“I know it’s hard, Tommy,” Adam said gently. “But if Sam and I can try to be open to the idea of you loving both of us, you need to too.”

“I know,” Tommy said, not opening his eyes. “I’m sorry. It just scared me. That reaction I had to you. That’s… that’s just for Sam. I’ve only ever wanted Sam like that, I mean, since I met him. What does that mean?”

Adam kissed Tommy’s mouth. “It means that you want me. And it has no bearing on Sam.” Adam waited until Tommy opened his eyes and looked at him before speaking again. “You know, if this even has a prayer of working, you can’t compare us. You can’t believe that anything you feel for me affects what you feel for him. Because thinking those things implies that you have to pick one or the other. And you don’t, Tommy. We’re giving you permission to never choose.”

“Never?” Tommy asked, and Adam realized his misstep. He pulled Tommy closer to him, feeling his small body still shaking against his.

“Let’s deal with the future when it comes.” He kissed Tommy again, and Tommy didn’t react, keeping still and unresponsive. Adam mumbled against his mouth, “You’re not going to lose me. You’re not going to lose Sam. Do what you want to do, what you _need_ to do.”

Tommy nodded, then added shyly, “There’s a party going on outside.”

“Oh yeah,” Adam said. He’d been gone for nearly an hour, but on the other side of his wall, the bass was still thumping away, glasses were still clinking, and people were still talking and laughing.

“Kick them out,” Tommy commanded, and Adam raised a brow at the rudeness of it. Tommy gave him a sexy smile. “I’ve waited almost three years for you, and if we’re going to do this, we’re gonna do it right. No holding back.”

That was all the convincing Adam needed, and so what if the tabloids reported that Adam Lambert kicked everyone out of his house party so that he could hook up with a cute guy? Fuck that. It’s not like that would damage his reputation.

Adam could hear Tommy snickering behind him as he opened his bedroom door and told his guests, in no uncertain terms, to get the fuck out of his house. When he closed the door and turned around, the sight of Tommy waiting for him on his bed took his breath away.

“No holding back,” Adam reminded him, and Tommy nodded once.

“No. I’m yours tonight. And you’re mine.”

 _Always. Whenever you want,_ Adam added silently, but he had already wasted too much time, so he said no more and let his body do the talking.

*

Tommy opened his eyes to see stunning blue ones staring right back.

“Morning,” Adam whispered. Early morning sunlight shone down on the bed in rectangles mirroring the sliding glass doors. Adam’s black hair shimmered in it, his freckles more pronounced than ever against his pale skin, his lips glowed peachy pink.

Tommy smiled at him and burrowed deeper into his arms. “This is what I thought it would feel like.”

“What?”

“Waking up with you,” Tommy mumbled against Adam’s chest.

“And what does it feel like?” There was a note of amusement in Adam’s voice.

 _Home_ , Tommy wanted to say, but it was a little too early to be that dramatic. “Great.”

“Just great?” Adam asked, frowning.

“No, not just great.” Tommy lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Adam’s chin. “Other words come to mind. Like satisfied. Blissed out. Drunk. High. Happy. Relieved. I feel like…” Tommy hesitated, but the expectant look in Adam’s eye prodded him on. “You know all those stupid songs about how you can do anything with love, and yadda yadda?”

“Hey, careful, I’ve written a few of those.”

Tommy chuckled. “Well, that’s how I feel. Powerful. Invincible.”

“Then let’s go conquer the world, Tommy Joe.” Adam wrapped himself around Tommy and turned them both over, pinning Tommy to the mattress. Tommy arched underneath him, skin sliding across skin. Adam groaned. “Or maybe we should stay here a little while longer…”

Tommy’s body responded, slower and lazier than it had the night before, but just as intense, and he lifted his hips, seeking friction. As Adam’s solid body pressed against his, indulging him, Tommy let every sensation take him over, let pure feeling steer.

But then Adam drew back, eyes searching him, questioning. “Can you stay? I mean, is it okay if you stay here for a while longer?”

Tommy let his head fall back against the pillow. “I don’t know. Is it?”

“I want you to.” Adam leaned close, his morning stubble scratching pleasantly against Tommy’s. “You could stay. Have breakfast with me. Or we could go get coffee. Or…we could stay in bed all day.”

Tommy twisted around, glancing at Adam’s clock on the nightstand. It was just a little past eight. Less than a half-mile away, Sam was probably up, tapping away at his computer, a cup of coffee close by.

“Sam,” Tommy said out loud, though he’d meant to only think it.

Adam stilled like the word had paralyzed him. “Do you want to go home? To him?”

Tommy thought of Sam again, his heart aching at the thought of Sam all alone. “I probably should.”

“But do you want to?”

Tommy’s mind drifted to the night before, of the way he and Adam had gripped each other so tightly all through their lovemaking, as if afraid that if they let go, they’d lose their chance forever. He thought of the way just the simple touch of Adam’s fingertips to his skin had made him feel like the most cherished thing on earth. He thought of the way Adam had held him afterwards, humming melodies in his ear, chuckling when Tommy attempted to sing along, kissing him over and over, saying he loved him over and over.

With those thoughts in mind, Tommy shifted underneath Adam, so that Adam was stretched over him completely. He took Adam’s face in his hands, pulling him into a kiss. Adam moaned into his mouth and Tommy opened to him, letting their tongues slide over each other.

Adam drew away, panting. “I hope to hell that was your answer.”

“I want to stay,” Tommy murmured. His head was so messed up there was no way to come up with an answer himself. The night with Adam felt right, waking up with him felt right, staying with him longer felt right. But as right as it felt, Sam was at home, waiting, loving him in spite of everything, and he felt right too. Sam felt so right.

But walking out of here, leaving Adam, that felt so wrong.

“Hmnnn, sounds like there’s a big ‘but’ in there somewhere…”

“Shouldn’t there be?” Tommy asked, desperate for any kind of help.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Adam said, clearly unsure himself. “Like, ‘But I should go home to Sam’ or ‘But I should talk to Sam’?”

“Not ‘should,’” Tommy corrected Adam gently, feeling the heavy truth of the words on his tongue. “I need to. I want to.”

Adam slid off of Tommy, expression crestfallen. “So you’re going home. You choose him.”

Tommy leaned close and bit down on Adam’s bottom lip gently, which was protruding out like a sullen child’s. “I thought I didn’t have to choose…”

“Well, you don’t.”

“So why assume?”

Adam’s shoulders moved with a shrug. “Because you’re running off so fast to him like this feels wrong, or it wasn’t good enough or—”

“You were here with me, weren’t you? So how can you ask if it felt wrong or wasn’t good enough?”

Adam grinned, proud of himself. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Far better than good.”

“Was it better than—”

“Don’t. You said I can’t compare, and I’m not going to. There’s no way I can, anyway. Apples and oranges.”

Adam looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps rephrase his question to wriggle some sort of information out of Tommy, but he gave up. “So you’re going back to him today. But not choosing him.”

“Not choosing,” Tommy repeated. He arched back when Adam chose that moment to lick at his neck. “Just need to talk to him. See him. Be with him, you know?”

“Be with him for how long? I want to see you again. Soon.”

“I want to see you, too but I don’t know when. I don’t know how Sam’s going to deal with this yet. I don’t know how _I’m_ going to deal with this yet. I mean, I have to get home, which hurts even though I want to see him, and I don’t know… I don’t know what or how or—”

“Hey,” Adam said, stroking a hand down Tommy’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you. I just… I don’t know how to sit here waiting, knowing you’re with him. I don’t know how to deal with any of this either.”

“I know, but Adam, we’re finally together. It may not be how we pictured it, but we’re together. And right now we’re naked together in bed and I just had one of the most amazing nights of my life and even if we don’t have all the answers right now, that’s okay. We’ll figure all of this out, but not on our own. We need Sam’s input.”

Adam frowned at that, saying, “When did you get so smart?”

“Believe it or not, sometime after Amsterdam.”

Adam laughed at that, and let Tommy pull him into another kiss.

When Tommy arrived at his apartment a few hours later, he took a deep breath before reaching for the knob. A flurry of emotions – happiness and guilt and dread – swirled around in his stomach. As he opened the door, Sam sat up from the couch, startled. A blanket slipped from around his shoulders.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Tommy asked, stepping inside. His heart was like a hummingbird in his chest, beating so wildly fast it had to be inhuman. Sam indeed looked startled, and maybe disoriented, but his eyes weren’t puffy or red. Tommy had to take that as a good sign.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sleep this long. I should have been writing an hour ago,” Sam said.

Tommy stood by the couch lamely, not sure what to say. What could he say that wouldn’t gut Sam completely? What could he say that wouldn’t be far too light for the heaviness of their situation?

“Why are you on the couch?” he ended up asking.

Sam raised his eyes to Tommy’s then dropped his gaze just as quickly. “Bed seemed too big.”

It was then that everything hit Tommy all at once. The utter joy of finally being with Adam collapsed into overpowering remorse, the love he felt in his heart for Adam twisted grotesquely, painfully in his chest, and somehow, his love for Sam rose to the top, bursting through the surface.

Tommy dropped onto the couch by Sam and buried his face in his hands, too overcome to cry but too paralyzed with emotion to do anything else.

“Tommy?” Tommy felt Sam’s strong hands on his back, trying to steady him.

“Don’t,” Tommy mumbled, pulling away.

Sam drew back like he’d been stung. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

The hurt in Sam’s voice seemed like it could split Tommy in two. “I want you to touch me but I don’t deserve it, Sam. And you can’t, okay? He’s all over me. His smell, his touch…I have to shower. You can’t touch me now.”

Tommy saw Sam’s eyes flicker with understanding, sharp and stinging, and it broke him even more.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, reaching for Tommy again. “Tommy, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Tommy argued, voice rising. “How could I do this to you? To us? I thought… I don’t know. I thought I could handle it. And you were offering and I thought maybe we could actually do this, that _I_ could actually do this. I could go from you to him, then back to you and it would all be okay. But it’s not. You slept alone last night and now he’s going to sleep alone tonight and I love you but I can’t _not_ think about him when I’m with you, and I can’t _not_ think about you when I’m with him and—”

“Jesus, Tommy. You’re hysterical. Come here.” When Tommy tried to shake off Sam’s hands again, Sam all but leapt on him, enveloping him in a strong embrace. “Let me hold you. It’s okay, let me hold you.”

Tommy wanted to say no, to protest again that he must smell like Adam and shouldn’t be touched, but Sam’s arms felt so good around him. He felt so safe, so protected, so assured, that he sank into Sam and held on tight.

“Come on. Let’s get you into the shower.”

Tommy let Sam guide him to the bathroom and then closed the door behind himself, grateful for a few minutes to collect his thoughts and maybe a little sanity. But he had to begin with a shower. He had to wipe Adam off of him, so that Sam wouldn’t have to see it, smell it, deal with it. He had to make his body a clean slate, so that he could be redrawn by Sam.

A half hour later, he was still sitting in a stream of nearly scalding water, hugging his knees, and the bathroom was so steamy he could barely see his hand in front of his face.

“Tommy?”

Sam pulled back the shower curtain. Tommy could feel Sam’s eyes on him, observing. Maybe judging, and who could blame him for that?

But then Sam’s bare arms were around him, bare legs wrapped around his body, holding him as the water rained down around them. And, finally, Tommy allowed himself to cry.

“I meant what I said last night,” Sam whispered in his ear. “I’m just happy you came home. If you didn’t even want me to share your life anymore, I don’t know what I’d do. Shh. Be still, M. Stop crying. This isn’t meant to be easy.”

Tommy leaned back into Sam’s shoulder. “I hurt you. Giving me permission to do it doesn’t take that away.”

Sam sighed. “No. It doesn’t. And I can’t lie and tell you I’m okay. But are you happy? I can only imagine it must have felt wonderful to be with him finally after all this time.”

“God, Sam. How can you say that after I’ve just spent the night with another man?”

Tommy felt Sam shrug. “I’m not lying when I say that your happiness means the world to me, either, Tommy.”

“Yes, but how do _you_ feel?”

“Scared,” Sam answered right away. “Paranoid. Jealous. Insecure. Anxious. Curious.”

“Don’t be any of those things.”

“You were with Adam Fucking Lambert all night and you really expect me not to be?” When Tommy turned back to him, brow raised, Sam flushed, turning even redder under the hot water. “Come on, Tommy. His reputation precedes him, and I’m assuming the worst. In my head you just had the most amazing night of your life and you must realize now that I’m dull and vanilla and that I really kind of suck at it. ”

“Stop. Adam said that I can’t compare the two of you if this is going to work.”

“He’s an incredibly strong person to say so, and to assume that you can do that, then.”

There was nothing to say to that, so Tommy stayed quiet. Then he shifted, turning in Sam’s arms so that they were facing each other. He pushed his fingers through Sam’s hair, and whispered, “I haven’t washed myself off yet.”

“Let me.”

Tommy nodded and allowed Sam to pull him up and to turn down the water to a more comfortable temperature. Sam took a bar of soap and lathered up his hands, not bothering with any of their fancy sponges or loofahs, and set to work.

His hands slid over Tommy’s skin, first lathering up his neck, then his shoulders and arms, and each finger on Tommy’s hands. Then he moved onward, down Tommy’s chest, over his stomach, then to the parts that needed cleansing most. Tommy closed his eyes, too ashamed to look Sam in the face, but Tommy knew what he was seeing: He saw the bruises Adam had left, indents of fingers and teeth, pressure and pinching and bites. He saw the marks left by nearly never-ending kisses. He saw each wince as he touched places where muscles had been stretched to the limit, where skin was still tender. He saw the residue leftover from a night full of lovemaking.

But even as he wanted to fall to his knees, to beg forgiveness to Sam for all of it, Sam’s hands were taking it away. Sam kneaded tense muscles, stroked over sore spots, caressed sensitive skin. Sam touched every part of him, coaxing warmth to the surface of Tommy’s body, coaxing the love for him out of his very bones. Every touch cleansed, purified, forgave. Every touch brought Tommy closer to center, closer to home, closer to Sam, until at last he felt clean, at last he felt absolved, at last he felt like he was all Sam’s again.

And then and only then, Tommy allowed himself one comparison:

 _Adam’s hands explored and guessed. Sam’s hands KNEW._

He spoke a version of that out loud to Sam, his voice gruff. “He’s human, not a god. He’s not perfect. And he doesn’t know me like you do.”

The look of relief on Sam’s face justified the slip. “Thanks. I feel silly for needing to hear it.”

“It’s not silly.”

Sam obviously didn’t buy that because he flushed deeply, his olive-toned skin getting even blotchier under the hot water. Tommy reached out, intending to comfort him with a touch, but Sam’s firm muscles underneath his hands gave him other ideas, and Jesus it was almost embarrassing how hard he got from them.

 _Olive skin and dark hair, not pale skin with peach fuzz. Both gorgeous, though. Both incredible. Both sensitive and needy under his fingertips._

Sam must have noticed, or at least he noticed his dreamy smile, because he kissed him again and then whispered, “Can I have you? I mean, would that be okay?”

“When I’m here with you, I’m all yours, Sam. I want you to understand that.” Tommy pressed himself up against Sam. Sam was even hotter than the shower, the heat of his skin almost too much sensation for one man to handle.

But Tommy sure wanted to try.

“I want you, too,” Tommy said, his mouth moving against Sam’s. “Is that okay with you?”

Tommy kissed him and Sam’s eyes fluttered shut. Tommy grinned in triumph when he even had trouble forming words. “Need you,” was all Sam could manage, and that was all Tommy needed to hear.

*

Later, Tommy was tucked up tight next to Sam in bed. A movie played in the background, an old western that no one was paying attention to. Sam’s fingers tapdanced over his laptop, and Tommy watched the screen in wonder as paragraph after paragraph appeared.

It was a new novel, and the first fifty pages always seemed to miraculously materialize in one continuous flow for Sam, like all he had to do was think them into existence. Tommy didn’t ask if his revisions on the old novel were done. When Sam was in this zone, there was no stopping him, no pulling him away. Not even the proverbial wild horses could have managed.

Either, Tommy figured, a new idea was holding Sam captive, or his emotions were.

Or both.

Tommy read along, a sentence behind the appearing words:

 _He was, in a word, striking. Imposing as any powerful man should be and yet there was gentleness there, lurking just below the surface. His eyes, though an icy shade of blue that could have easily been mistaken for cold, were warm and filled with laughter, and a smile pulled at his reluctant lips. He stood in front of them, waiting with patience for the crowd’s murmurs to die out, a lock of hair the shade of midnight falling into his face. When he spoke, the murmuring rose again, this time out of surprise, for his voice was not sharp, deep, or demanding. It was as gentle as his eyes, as light as a feather’s touch and twice as soft._

“Hey, did you mean to…”

Sam blinked down at Tommy, trying to disengage himself from his new world. “What?”

Tommy studied the words on the screen and then shook his head. “Nothing. Keep going. It was getting good.”

Sam laughed at that and resumed typing, oblivious to the revelation going on inside Tommy’s head. It was not the first time Sam had written a real person into one of his books, but this was the first time he didn’t seem to have any clue he was doing it.

Tommy was still wondering about that when his phone rang ten minutes later, blasting Fever all through his bedroom. Tommy looked up at Sam, flushing.

“Sorry. I didn’t do that. He must have changed the ringtone last night.” His heart leapt at that, imagining Adam programming his phone to play their song as he slept soundly beside him.

“Going to answer it?”

“Should I?” Tommy asked.

“Why are you asking me?” Because Sam looked more like he might laugh than annoyed with it, Tommy rolled over and plucked his phone off the nightstand.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Like your ringtone?”

Tommy laughed and damn it, it was more like a purr than anything. He felt Sam looking at him and made to move away from him. It felt strange to be pressed against Sam with Adam’s voice in his ear. But Sam laid a warm hand on the bare skin of his back and Tommy sighed into that and stayed put.

“It’s not bad, but I think maybe a new one is in order.”

Adam chuckled. His laughter was sexy. Silky. Sweet as sin. Tommy prayed to hell that Sam didn’t notice how tightly wound it made his body.

“You’re right. I’ve, um… I’ve actually been working on our song all day.”

“Too Late?”

“No,” Adam answered. “Return.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, surprised. “Can I hear it?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow. If I can see you tomorrow. After our recording session, I mean.”

“Oh. Um…” Tommy eyed Sam, who quirked a brow at him.

“Sorry, is this a bad time to ask that?” Adam asked, and Tommy heard the trepidation in his voice and rushed to reassure him.

“No. It’s okay. Everything’s fine between me and Sam. Let me just check, okay?” Adam said something in response but Tommy had already taken his phone away from his ear and was covering it. “Adam wants to know if he can see me. After recording tomorrow.”

“Do you want to go?” Sam whispered, and Tommy nodded. “Then go.”

“I’ll be with him all day, though, and the day after.”

“Then maybe you’d let me take you to lunch tomorrow, or the next day? Just so we can see each other a bit?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” Tommy uncovered the phone. “Adam? Yeah, let’s do something tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning, Tommy Joe,” Adam said, then dropped his voice an octave to say, “Dream of me when you do.”

Tommy hummed, his body coiling tighter. Sam’s hand pressed into his skin, rubbing muscle. “Night, Adam.”

When he turned back to Sam, Sam was looking at him with a combination of amusement and curiosity. “I’m jealous that he can do that with just his voice.”

“Sorry. I should leave…”

“No, don’t go,” Sam said, his hand pulling Tommy closer to him. The laptop, Tommy saw, had been abandoned. “I just want to know the secret. Does he make his voice all deep and sexy?”

“No,” Tommy said, sticking his tongue out at Sam. “His voice is light as a feather’s touch, if you must know.”

“Jesus, did I really write that pile of shit?”

“Yes. And you knew?”

“Of course I knew.” Sam shrugged. “Okay, maybe not really. But now I do. So light as a feather turns you on, huh?”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head into the pillow. “How can you joke about this, Sam? I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you and you’re teasing me about what his voice does to me.”

“Tommy,” Sam began and pulled Tommy upright so that they were leaning against each other. “I know you’re trying. And I’m trying too, in all my weird ways. I keep reminding myself that you really love him, that this isn’t just a fling for you, and that helps a lot. You love him like you love me, like I love Landon, so I totally understand it. But secrecy’s not going to do us any good. If you’re afraid of hurting me, then just don’t keep me in the dark. I’ll tell you if you say too much, okay? And I won’t joke about stuff if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t. And it helps you, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Humor is great for deflection.”

Tommy snorted. Then he leaned forward and kissed Sam. “I know it’s not meant to be easy, but there’s got to be something I can do to make this easier on you.”

Sam looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Sam, what is it?”

“I don’t want to be that needy guy or sound like I’m giving you rules or something.”

“If it helps you feel better then it helps me, okay?” Tommy said, and Sam relented with a sigh.

“Just call, okay? Let me know where you are. You don’t have to tell me details or plans but… I want to know you’re with him and safe, not wandering the streets with amnesia or something.”

“Amnesia?” Tommy asked.

“Hey, I’ve got a writer’s imagination. Couple that with my mother’s worrying streak and I am one paranoid son of a bitch. If you don’t call me I’m going to assume you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Okay, I’ll call,” Tommy agreed. “What else?”

Sam grew uncomfortable again and turned away. Tommy reached out, taking Sam’s jaw in his hand and turning his face back toward him. Sam’s eyes were wet.

“Can you, um…” Sam swallowed. “Can you shower at Adam’s place after…? After. I mean, I know I can’t live in denial here. I know you’re having sex with him but… there’s something about seeing you like that, I just…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. That’s a fair request. I’ll shower at Adam’s.” Tommy let his hand slide down Sam’s neck to his shoulder. “Today must have been hell for you.”

Tommy folded himself around Sam, and Sam held him, tightly, almost clinging. Almost, Tommy thought, like Adam had held him the night before.

“Anything else?”

“One thing,” Sam whispered. “And it’s big. You’ll need to talk to Adam about it.”

Tommy braced himself for anything, and knew that whatever it was, he’d give it to Sam because he’d have given anything to Sam always, but especially now. Especially when he needed some way to make things right.

“Tell me.”

“You weren’t safe with him,” Sam said levelly, and Tommy was ready to butt in and defend his choice when Sam pressed a finger to his lips. “I know. You trust him. But you have to know, Tommy, I don’t. And I knew that opening myself up to this kind of relationship was putting myself at risk for a lot of things, but sickness shouldn’t be one of them. Until I can trust him, I need to be able to trust you. Okay? I need you to be careful with him.”

Tommy nodded, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, you’re thinking for two now. Three, really. Just remember that.” Sam smiled warmly and kissed Tommy again. “Now, what do I have to do to get you back into a sexy mood? Write you a song? Should I make my voice higher pitched?”

Tommy rolled his eyes and shoved, pushing Sam flat on his back. He crawled on top of him. “Nah. I wanna hear a deep, scratchy voice.” He pressed a finger to the corner of his mouth and looked upward, as if thinking really hard. “I wonder who I know that has a sexy, deep, scratchy voice?”

Sam laughed and grabbed a handful of Tommy’s hair, pulling him down until his ear was right next to his lips. “I don’t know, but I’d love to hear you say his name.”

“Mnnn, Sam,” Tommy mumbled, hips moving against Sam’s involuntarily.

Sam grinned, proud of himself, his hips rising to meet Tommy’s. “Yeah, that’ll do…”


	6. Ashes

Adam wasn’t the type of guy to get nervous. Sure, there were a few times in his life he could remember a touch of anxiety, the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach, but not many. The night of the American Idol finale, for one. The AMAs, sure. And of course the night he’d had to break his first love’s heart.

But those were nothing compared to now, to waiting for Tommy to walk through the studio doors to see how he was going to react, to see if Tommy would come to him and kiss him and reveal them, or if he would place distance between them or worse, pretend nothing had changed.

The door opened and Adam sucked in a breath, but it was only Monte, who nodded to him once before digging out his guitar to set up. When the door opened a second time and this time it was just Cam, Adam rolled his eyes at himself for the near heart attack, chucked on his iPod headphones, and began his warm up routine. The familiar patterns of tones and the routine of loosening his voice relaxed him, and he closed his eyes and let his voice fly.

He was midway through a scale when someone pulled an earbud from his ear. Adam opened his eyes to see Tommy in front of him, earbud in hand, grinning.

“Hey.”

Adam grinned back. “Hey.”

“So I probably should have asked you…” Tommy arched a brow, sexy as hell. “We gonna tell the band?”

Adam squinted at him suspiciously; overacting like his life depended on it, and whispered, “How about we let them figure it out?”

“Good plan,” Tommy said and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss Adam. Adam bent down to meet him, pulling him close and bending him almost backwards, his tongue lapping at the inside of Tommy’s mouth.

Somewhere behind them, Isaac dropped his drumsticks, Monte’s guitar let out a screech, and Cam mumbled, “What the actual fuck?”

Adam indulged himself in a chuckle as he pulled away from Tommy. Tommy’s big eyes were sparkling. He winked before turning to his band. “Okay, well, first on the agenda today, we’re recording the backing of The Things You Said and going to—”

“Oh hell no,” Isaac said, wagging his finger in a way that would have made Sutan tear up like a proud mama. “You cannot just suck Tommy Joe’s face in front of us and then go on like nothing happened.”

Adam looked at Tommy, trying to play innocent, but Tommy couldn’t handle it. He covered his mouth to keep his laughter inside, and his cheeks were flaming red. Adam shrugged at Isaac and tried not to look too proud of himself. “Tommy and I are together.”

“You broke up with Sam?” Monte asked, voice icy.

Tommy shook his head. “No. I’m still with Sam.”

Monte’s voice went from icy to downright frigid. “So you’re just cheating on him then?”

“I’m not a cheater,” Tommy snapped, and Adam laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy had never taken well to Monte’s quick judgments to begin with, and this was a sore spot.

“Sam and I talked it over and he agreed that Tommy and I should see each other and see where this takes us.”

“So, let me get this straight,” said Cam, face frozen in an expression between shock and dubiousness, “His boyfriend’s okay with you fucking him?”

“Oh Jesus,” Adam mumbled and Tommy moved closer to him, whispering, “Okay, maybe telling them wasn’t such a good idea.”

But now that it was out there, Adam wanted to be completely truthful with the people playing music for him. And, he realized, he was happy to finally be able to say it out loud.

“I’m sure that’s what it seems like. The truth is that we’re both in love with Tommy and Tommy’s in love with both of us, so we’re just being open. Honest. Exploring possibilities. Letting this, all of this, take its course,” Adam explained.

Isaac scrunched his face up as if it was painful to try to sort it all out. “So, like… ‘us’ as in all three of you? Together?”

“No, no,” Adam said quickly. “Not all three of us. Like, not all at the same time, I mean. Obviously it is the three of us involved but not like… _together_.” Adam felt the words trip and stumble out of his mouth and looked over to Tommy for help explaining, but Tommy’s eyes had gone wide, unfocused. Dreamy. Adam elbowed him. “Don’t you dare get any ideas…”

Tommy snapped out of it at once and jumped in to defend himself. “No, Isaac. It’s not like that, okay? Sam’s just giving me the chance to figure out how deep my feelings for Adam go. Just think of it as I’m dating both of them.”

“Yeah, but…” Everyone turned to Cam, who was making a face. “Isn’t that a little tricky? I mean, it’s not like you’re just passing a good book between friends. Sharing a boyfriend is a little different. I’d be jealous as hell.”

“It’s complicated,” Adam said, and reached for Tommy’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out. Sam and I are on the same side here: Tommy’s.”

Cam shook her head. “That’s just beyond me, guys. I mean, I can see how it works in theory but… Whatever. More power to you if it works.”

“Or all three of you could end up alone,” Monte said, and Adam shot him a death glare. Monte shrugged. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Tommy said, taking the higher road than Adam wanted to. “But I’m fully aware of the risks, believe me. Now, can we all play? Maybe get this track laid down?”

Everyone reluctantly moved toward their instruments. Isaac looked like he wanted to ask more questions but scurried away instead. Tommy didn’t let go of Adam’s hand.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” Tommy said.

“Don’t pay attention to Monte. He’ll come around. They all will.”

Tommy nodded. “We do have to talk, though. Just a couple of things Sam brought up to me.”

“Uh oh.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Also, he’s taking me to lunch today.” Adam pouted, and Tommy reached up, pushing Adam’s bottom lip back in with his finger. “Stop that. You get me all day, all night, and most of tomorrow. I want to see him a little, too. So what time can I tell him?”

Adam wasn’t quite finished pouting, and as soon as Tommy let go, his lip was sticking out again. “Noon, I guess. A half hour break?”

Tommy was nothing but amused. “Grumpy, uncooperative boys don’t get laid.”

Adam immediately sucked in his lip, making Tommy laugh loudly. “Then I will _happily_ give you an hour for lunch.”

“There’s the spirit.”

When Sam arrived three hours later, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. They’d just wrapped all of the backing for the track and Adam was ready to step into the booth by himself and record some takes on his own. He was sitting on the floor, Tommy and his sheet music both in front of him, in the nest his legs made. Adam was singing softly into Tommy’s ear, trying out variations and runs with the melody, and Tommy leaned back into him, nodding along.

“Sam.”

Everyone froze when Tommy said his name, and for the second time that day, Adam felt a nervousness rise up in him like he’d never known. Sam walked in, a smile spreading across his face when he saw Tommy, and it didn’t falter even slightly when he saw Adam molded around him. He also didn’t seem to notice that the entire band was staring with sadistic interest, as if waiting for a fistfight.

Tommy turned to Adam. “Gotta go.”

“Yeah.” Adam pushed himself to his feet and offered Tommy a hand, which he didn’t drop as they went to Sam. “Sam,” Adam said as a way of greeting.

Sam gave him a slight nod. “Adam. Good to see you again. Working him too hard?”

“Nah. We’re all taking it pretty easy today,” Adam answered, smiling. “Sorry to be such a Nazi about the time, but the label will spank me for any downtime on a studio day.”

“Understandable,” Sam said, and his eyes dropped to where Adam and Tommy’s hands were intertwined – revealing for the first time a hint of displeasure.

Adam followed Sam’s eyes and let go of Tommy’s hand, somewhat reluctantly. “Have fun. See you soon, Tommy.”

Adam watched as Sam folded Tommy’s hand into his, the same hand he’d been holding just seconds ago, and led him out of the studio. Just before they slipped out the door, Adam saw Tommy give Sam a look that was pure sugar and warmth. It was the same look he’d been on the receiving end of all day, and he already missed it.

A big hand clapped him on the shoulder. “You okay?”

Adam tore his eyes off the now empty doorway and turned to Monte, nodding. “Fine.”

“Be serious, Adam. This has got to be killing you.”

“I know this is really hard to understand, but I’m really okay. And this is going to work.”

Monte shook his head. “It’s going to get ugly.”

“It’s going to work,” Adam repeated, a little louder. “Because when Tommy isn’t with me, he’s in the only other place that’s right for him.”

“Which is?”

“With Sam.” Monte huffed out a breath and took another big one in, getting ready to let loose a litany of complaints, accusations, and concerns. Adam held up a hand between them, keeping him quiet. “Don’t. I know you have a million reasons why you think this is a bad idea. But like Tommy said, he’s aware of all of them. So am I. So is Sam. And it’s all a little strange and mind-blowing but listen to me: I am the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Adam.”

“I’m not,” Adam said, voice low and calm. “I actually got to hold him the other night, Monte. And I’ll get to again tonight.”

“And the nights he’s not with you?” Monte asked, incredulous. “What then?”

“I’m counting down the minutes.” When Monte started to shake his head again, Adam patted Monte’s cheek as if he was a child. “How long have you known me?”

Monte shrugged. “Twelve years maybe?”

“And in all that time, have I ever kept quiet when I’m unhappy?”

“No, you bitch and moan worse than my kids.”

Adam laughed. “Exactly. Don’t worry. If I’m unhappy, I’ll say so. And we’ll make changes. But I think we’ll all be happy, because Tommy’s happy. Did you see how happy he was today?”

Monte couldn’t deny that. He sighed, dropping his head to his chest. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But… I have to admit you’re doing the right thing with this album.”

“I know,” Adam said, grin blossoming. “So I’m going to get back in there and get to work, okay? This album’s going to be fucking amazing.”

Adam strode off, leaving Monte behind, and spent the next hour singing his face off for one of the world’s best producers.

*

Tommy opened his eyes to pure darkness.

Somewhere down the hall he heard the faint tones of a keyboard and over that, Adam’s voice, whispering a melody.

Tommy tugged on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and padded down the corridor until he reached what Adam referred to as his ‘music room’ – a room with his keyboard and a computer stocked with recording software.

Adam was at the keyboard stool, bent over paper, scribbling. He raised his head when Tommy entered. “Sorry. I got you up.”

“No. I’m used to being left in the middle of the night for an idea or voice that just won’t shut up.” Tommy grinned, and Adam grinned back. “Sam’s up and down all night. He even talks in his sleep about his characters.”

“Ever get jealous?”

“I used to,” Tommy admitted, taking a seat in the armchair next to the keyboard. “Then I realized that it’s just the way his brain works. Besides, most of the time the characters who have his attention are gorgeous blond bass players, so…”

Adam chuckled. “You are rather inspiring, Tommy Joe. You’re my muse too, you know?”

“Is that why you’re writing music at two a.m.? I was so inspiring next to you that you had to get away?”

Adam laughed again. “That’s not exactly inaccurate.”

“Can I hear it?”

“When it’s done,” Adam promised, his shyness at his music writing skills (and of the emotion buried within) still dominating his actions. Of all the new songs he’d written, he’d only worked up the courage to show Tommy two.

“What’s this one called?”

“Forever,” Adam answered, flushing.

“That’s a strong word,” Tommy said, his tone heavy with implications.

“It is. And I don’t use it lightly.”

Tommy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “It’s a scary word to me, because unless you truly believe that you and Sam can keep this up forever, it means I’m losing one of you.”

“I told you, you’re not losing me.”

Tommy sat back again, relenting with a sigh. “That’s what he says too. One of you has to be wrong, right?”

“Maybe. Or maybe we’re both right.”

“You know, I used to like that theory about religion: that they were all right on some level. Doesn’t stop people from killing each other over the differences in their beliefs, though.”

Adam looked back at his music, crestfallen, and guilt welled up inside Tommy for even bringing it up.

“It’s just me, right?”

“What do you mean?” Adam questioned, lifting his head again.

“You’re just seeing me, right? I mean, I know it’s selfish of me to ask that of you so I haven’t. But I want you to tell me if, you know, there’s someone else here at night. When I’m with Sam.”

Adam cocked his head. “It’s just you. I’m not interested in anyone but you. I mean, we’re together, right? I’m your boyfriend, even if I’m just one of two?”

“Yes.” Tommy sighed. “I’m not really asking for me, though. Not completely. I’m asking for Sam, too.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sank back into the chair and looked up at the ceiling. “I mean that we haven’t used protection, and although I of course trust you, Sam…”

“Thinks I’m disease-ridden,” Adam finished for him with a frown.

“It’s not that,” Tommy argued, rolling his head no against the back of the chair.

“He should at least trust that I would never hurt you.”

“I think he almost does, Adam.” Tommy pushed himself up, meeting Adam’s eyes. “But this is big for him, okay? He may not be sleeping with you himself but it’s the next best thing, and Sam… it was a big deal when we took that step. He’d only…” Tommy paused, shook his head at himself, and forced himself onward. “He’d only been with Landon before me. He’s not a prude or anything. There aren’t any weird hang-ups. But he had never considered that he might be with anyone but Landon. Opening himself up to me like that was a big step, and so is this. He just wants peace of mind, that’s all.”

Adam appeared to consider that, then he leaned forward and took Tommy’s hands in his. “It’s just you I’m seeing, and it’s just you I’ve been with in, well, a while. And I’m clean. If he needs to see something to prove that—”

“No, nothing like that. He just wanted to be sure.” Tommy paused. “So did I, I guess. Not that I thought you were really seeing anyone else, or you’d ever put me at risk but…Jesus, Adam. We didn’t even discuss it.”

Adam shut his eyes, a little smile tugging at his lips. “We were kind of in a hurry.”

“Yeah, but that was just stupid.”

Adam nodded. “Agreed. From here on out, no glove, no love. And tell Sam he can sleep at night. You’re the only one, Tommy, and Sam, of course, by extension. I wouldn’t want to hurt him either.” Although Tommy squinted at that, questioning, Adam went on. “I’m assuming that’s what we needed to talk about, or is there more?”

“There’s more. Just a couple of things. Small things.” Tommy yawned and leaned back into the chair again. “He wants me to shower here before I go back to him.”

“Understandable. Easy. Done.”

“And he wants me to call to check in.”

Adam wrinkled his nose. “Like you’re a teenager?”

Tommy snorted. “Yeah. Exactly like that. He worries about me like I’m driving for the first time or something.”

Chuckling, Adam reached for Tommy’s hands again. “Did you call him tonight?”

“I texted when I got here.”

Adam hummed. “I’d like the same.”

Tommy picked his head up. “What?”

“Call me, too. When you’re with him. I don’t want to worry.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Act upset that two awesome, handsome men love you so much that they worry about you.”

At that, Tommy felt himself blush. He relented. “Okay. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you called Sam handsome just now.”

“He is.”

“Preaching to the choir, Lambert. Just surprises me to hear you admit it.”

“Yeah, well, when I stop being blinded by jealous rage, it’s amazing how observant I am.”

Tommy laughed. “He’s writing a character that looks like you. I think he returns the compliment.” Tommy’s eyes widened. “Shit. I can’t believe I told you that.”

Adam wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh but you just did. Should I assume this character is the hero, impossibly charismatic, and saves the damsel in distress? Or is he the villain?”

“That,” Tommy began, “is yet to be determined.”

“When do I get to read it?”

“When it’s done,” Tommy said, throwing Adam’s own mantra back in his face. “You should read Sam’s stuff. It’s good.”

“I have.” Tommy raised a brow at that. “I read the one about the turtles. Then I picked up the Nic Amati series. Fucking loved those. Haven’t been brave enough to try his horror yet. But the one with the letters? The letters he and his friend Cameron wrote during college? That was incredible. I love being inside another artist’s head. And the letter he wrote when he found out Landon was sick…”

Tommy swallowed. “Yeah. That one’s hard for me to read. Landon’s sickness consumed him, silenced his muse. His death let it speak again, but it was twisted for a while.”

“And now he has you.”

“Yeah.” Tommy was quiet for a minute, then forced a smile. “You’d like Cameron. Maybe one day you can meet him.”

“Meeting Sam’s friends?” Adam was amused. “Like we’re all one big happy family?”

Tommy felt sheepish at that. “A guy can hope. Besides, Cameron’s my friend too.”

But Adam’s doubts settled into Tommy heavily. Even if they somehow kept this going, would his friends be accepting of Adam? Of their situation? Even the band had had a hard time wrapping their heads around it. Someone who had been Sam’s friend first definitely wasn’t going to be happy about it.

“I’d like to meet your friends,” Adam cut through Tommy’s thoughts, making his doubt fade just a touch. “Sam’s friends. Whatever. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea for Sam and I to spend more time together. I feel like I should know who my boyfriend’s with when he’s not with me.”

Tommy laughed. “Again, like I’m a teenager. And a girl at that. Gotta have a talk with Daddy before you can take Daughter out.”

Even though Adam chuckled at that, his eyes were distant, like he was thinking of other things. He yawned then, which Tommy was almost sure was fake. “Well, since you won’t shut up, it seems inspiration’s left me.”

“Not much of a muse, am I?”

Adam grinned. “Want to turn in? It’s going to be a long day in the studio tomorrow. God knows I need the beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Adam half-heartedly swatted at Tommy. “I think Sam would disagree.”

“Oh my god, Adam. Shut up. And if you tell him I told you—”

“Blackmail is so awesome.”

“Pfft. Maybe I should tell him your little secret, then.”

“The hell you will.”

And Tommy took off down the hallway laughing, Adam chasing behind, to their bedroom.

*

It took Adam a while to make good on his claim that he wanted to get to know Sam. It took more than a month to be exact.

By that time they had settled into a nice routine, almost without planning it. Their “schedule,” for lack of a better term, depended mostly on Tommy’s emotions. He couldn’t seem to go longer than two nights in succession with either of them, missing the other terribly after just a few days. Adam and Sam were agreeable to that, with a few exceptions. If the days were studio heavy, Sam took Tommy to lunch or dinner. If they had days off, Tommy might meet Adam for a drink or a cup of coffee while he spent most of that time with Sam.

And for Sam and Adam, they found that when Tommy wasn’t with them, they both got a shit ton of writing done, as if their imaginations filled the gaps in for them with melodies about Tommy, or visions of a character that must be heard.

As a result, Adam’s album was more than halfway done and sounding, to his and Tommy’s completely unbiased opinion, like the best musical creation this decade. Sam’s revisions were also done, and while he was waiting on the final read-through from his editors, his next book was pouring out of him at an alarming rate.

Sam was currently pacing around the apartment, thinking out loud as Tommy quietly plucked at his favorite acoustic guitar.

“Is it too clichéd?” Sam asked suddenly, and Tommy’s fingers slipped on the strings, sliding down a sour note.

“A washed up actor with a dark past?” Tommy asked to make sure Sam was still talking about the same premise, as his mind often leapt to new ideas without segue. Sam nodded. “No. I mean, you’re not going to do that whole, ‘he falls in love and gets his life back together’ thing, are you?”

Sam almost looked insulted at the suggestion. “No. People around town go missing and he’s the main suspect.”

Tommy considered. “Please tell me he pairs up with a hot policeman to prove his innocence.”

Sam smiled. “Either that or his stalker is the one doing it, while he’s tied up at his house, unable to get out.”

“Have you never seen Misery?” Tommy asked and Sam was confused.

“What?”

“Stephen King, man. He’s already done that shit but better. There’s something called ‘hobbling.’”

“Sounds sinister,” Sam said, interest clearly piqued, and it was then that their buzzer cried out, letting them know that Adam had arrived to pick Tommy up. Sam walked over to the door and pressed a button, allowing Adam entrance into their building, but kept his eyes on Tommy. “Explain that. What you just said.”

“Kathy Bates. She ties up this author and puts a wood block between his feet and then hits his ankles with a sledgehammer.” Tommy grinned. “Most disturbing scene in movie history, man.”

Sam paled. “Jesus, King’s good. Why have I never read that?”

“Because you’re chicken shit even though you write horror yourself.”

“I write gothic novels, and supernatural stuff at that,” Sam corrected Tommy. He nodded once to Adam, who ducked through the doorway. “Hobbling one of my characters isn’t something I can stomach.”

“What’s hobbling?” Adam asked, looking from Sam to Tommy with a vaguely repulsed expression.

“You don’t want to know,” Sam answered. “In fact, I think I wish he hadn’t ever told me.”

“We’re discussing the novel Sam’s working on.”

“The one starring me?” Adam asked cheekily.

Sam sighed, glaring at Tommy. “Why did you have to tell him that?”

Tommy merely laughed, setting his guitar on the stand next to the couch. He looked at Adam. “Want to head out?”

Adam nodded, but then turned to Sam. “Want to come?”

Both Sam and Tommy blinked in stunned silence. It was Sam who found his voice first. “With you and Tommy?”

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged. “I’m taking him to this cool new place that serves drinks based on your astrological sign. The Aquarius one has kumquat in it. I mean, kumquat, for fuck’s sake. I’ve gotta try it. What’s your sign anyway?”

Sam blinked again. “Um, Capricorn.”

Adam’s eyes widened in revelation. “Ah, that explains it. Tommy must really seem like he’s flying in circles around you sometimes. Libras are fascinating, aren’t they?”

Although Sam made a face meant to show his doubt in Adam’s astrological knowledge, he was clearly amused. “You can say that again. Are you sure? It’s your time with him.”

“Yeah. I think Capricorn’s drink is Hennessy-based. Do you like Hennessy?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come along. Besides, Tommy Joe was looking a little too excited about the hobbling thing. I’m scared to be alone with him right now.” Adam winked at Sam, who laughed. His voice was a little higher pitched than normal, revealing that he was still stunned and maybe a little nervous by Adam’s invite.

“Okay. Let me change.”

As soon as Sam was out of earshot, Tommy was in Adam’s arms. “You’re unbelievable. Are you really sure?”

Adam shrugged. “Of course. We can have a drink together, can’t we? Just a couple of guys, shooting the shit, having a few laughs. Nothing different than any other night out. Except that whole sharing a boyfriend thing.”

“Except that.”

“I still get you for the night, though,” Adam warned, and he bent to press a kiss to Tommy’s mouth.

“I didn’t assume otherwise,” Sam said, coming back into the living room. He didn’t flinch at the sight of Tommy in Adam’s arms, but he didn’t look at them for long either. He smoothed down the black button down shirt he was wearing with a pair of jeans. “Is this okay?”

As Tommy assured Sam that he looked okay, Adam felt his jealousy spike just a touch. In all of a minute, Sam had managed to make himself look better than almost everyone they’d see out at the club later. His pale skin was luminous beneath the black shirt, his olive eyes shone with warmth, even his lips looked shimmery, as if he’d applied gloss, though Adam knew he wasn’t into that.

“You look great,” Adam found himself saying honestly, and Sam’s smile at that lit him up even more.

“Thanks. You sure about this?”

With Sam looking like that, Adam almost regretted it. He nodded, regardless. “It’ll be fun. Let’s go, the car’s waiting.”

*

Though the club was smaller than he’d expected, it more than made up for it with atmosphere. Rather than going the space/sci-fi route, they’d based their decorating in Victorian artifacts, taken from the height of the age when astrology made a comeback. Colors were bold, lights were dim, everything seemed dipped in gold. It was at once mysterious and inviting.

Tommy pulled Adam straight to a rounded booth in the corner, where they could keep an eye on the door for anyone unwelcome, and where Adam could easily hide if he needed. Sam followed a bit shyly, and Adam turned back to him, offering a warm smile.

“Totally different vibe from New York.”

That wasn’t exactly true. A club was a club, no matter where it was. But there was something about a night in L.A. that was a little more fanciful, a little more what-will-happen-next? If anyone would get that, Adam figured a writer had a good chance.

“It is, but it’s a good vibe,” Sam agreed.

They sat in the booth, Tommy in the middle, and a waitress came over to ask their sign. Tommy got a good laugh at that. Sam and Adam both looked at Tommy, amused that he was amused, then back at each other, smiling warmly.

Sam asked, “So you’re really into this, the astrology thing? When did that happen?”

The waitress arrived with their drinks, which they dove into before Adam answered. His own was awesome and he wouldn’t have minded about a gallon of it. Sam hummed with pleasure at his Hennessy mix, and Tommy made a face, proclaiming that Libra’s drink was nothing more than a bitter margarita.

“Try mine,” Adam said, pushing his over to Tommy, who sipped and then deemed it too sweet.

“How about this one, Goldilocks?”

Tommy laughed again and took a swig of Sam’s drink, proclaiming, “Just right.”

Adam crinkled his nose. “I should have known. Sometimes you can be so damned earthy…”

Tommy downed nearly all of Sam’s drink, swallowed, and stuck his tongue out at Adam. Adam merely rolled his eyes and signaled for another Capricorn. He turned to Sam, who had surrendered what was left of his drink to their mutual boyfriend and was trying to suppress a laugh.

“Years ago,” he said in answer to Sam’s nearly forgotten question. “My first boyfriend wouldn’t so much as get out of bed without consulting his chart. He taught me a lot, but then I kind of got obsessed. Some people think _too_ obsessed.”

Tommy guffawed. “He thinks he knows everything about me. Always saying shit about my Cancer moon, or something in the seventh house, Jupiter aligning with Mars…”

Adam glared. “And I’ve never been wrong.”

Tommy scoffed at that and pulled a newly delivered Capricorn drink to himself. Sam turned back to Adam, eyes twinkling. “Anything I should know?”

“Yeah. Cancer moons are moody as hell.”

Tommy sulked, proving Adam’s point. Sam snorted. “Thanks for the tip.”

After the second round, the conversation came even easier than before. Though Tommy was common ground, Sam and Adam eventually moved away from talking about him altogether. They discussed their writing processes and the commonalities between creating an album and creating a novel, and listened with interest to each other’s experiences, finding it fascinating.

Adam couldn’t help but notice the way Sam’s eyes sparkled when he talked about his writing, almost the same way he looked when he talked about Tommy. It lit him up, made him glow, echoing the soft golden light of the club. It wasn’t until Tommy yawned that it dawned on Adam that he hadn’t joined in the conversation in a while.

“Hey, want to dance?”

That got Tommy’s attention and he smiled sleepily. Adam took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor of the club, where the beat coming from the speakers was heavy and made for movement. Adam caught Tommy around the waist and they moved in close, finding each other’s rhythm quickly. Adam sighed at the feel of Tommy’s body close to his.

“Christ, it’s been too long. Wanna get you home. Alone.”

Tommy dodged playfully as Adam went to nip his ear. “Soon enough, Lambert. Not as if you’ve really hated Sam’s company, I’ve noticed.”

“He’s…” Adam paused, searching for the right word. “Fun.”

“He is. And very intelligent, and witty, and caring, and kind of an asshole when required. All very good qualities.” Tommy pressed in closer, his lips touching the shell of Adam’s ear. “In fact, he reminds me a lot of some other guy I know.”

Adam laughed. “I hope this other guy is a handsome devil with a singing voice that could make angels weep.”

Tommy nodded. “This guy is also, apparently, very humble.”

Laughing, Adam spun Tommy into a faster dance, keeping pace with the changing music. When that song morphed into another, Tommy held up his hands in surrender.

“Gonna need more booze if you expect me to keep dancing.”

Back at the table, Sam had ordered another round, so Tommy threw himself into the booth and attacked his drink with the ferocity of a man parched from days in the desert. Sam cupped his hand around Tommy’s, which was cupped around his glass.

“Want to dance?”

“I need at least twenty minutes of recovery time before I can take you on,” Tommy answered dryly. He pointed a finger at Adam. “Mr. Rhythm Nation over there wore me out, and you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Yeah, where did you learn how to dance, anyway?” Adam asked. He remembered the night at the club, the way Sam’s body had been hypnotic, moving so smoothly along with the bass.

Sam laughed. “I used to be terrible at it. Like, embarrassingly awful.”

“What changed?”

Adam watched as something changed in Sam’s eyes, wondering at the reason why they grew soft and distant until Sam started to speak.

“Landon was an amazing dancer. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him when he was moving. He was graceful but…powerful too, you know?” Adam nodded, knowing exactly what Sam meant. The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “He never had lessons or anything. He just wasn’t afraid to try stuff. And not self-conscious at all. He just moved. Of course, it was the music too.”

“Music?” Adam asked.

“Landon heard music differently than I did,” Sam started to explain. “I’m tone deaf. I don’t know a violin from a clarinet, but Landon had some kind of talent with it. He _really_ heard it. It was a living, breathing thing to him, that’s why he always had the best taste in bands and stuff. And we’d go out to clubs in New York and either I got sick of looking like a flailing idiot next to him, or he did, and he started to teach me things. How to listen to the bass, how to feel the beat in my bones, how to let go.”

The blush that rose slightly in Sam’s cheeks made him look younger in the dim light. And talking about Landon was close to talking about writing and Tommy. Sam was lit up again, this time like embers in a late evening fire.

“You fell in love with him when you were fourteen?” Adam asked, somehow more curious than ever about Sam’s past, about the man who impossibly seemed just as important to him as Tommy.

“No,” Sam said, laughing a little. “He fell in love with me then. I was the moron that didn’t realize he was meant for me until years later, like the douchey guy in every romantic comedy ever.”

“Landon was so cute, Adam,” Tommy cut in, casting a shy look at Sam as he said the words. “Sam was a _big_ moron.”

Adam laughed at that. “Have a picture?” he asked Sam.

After a moment, Sam nodded. Slowly, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and tapped through the screens until only the background was visible. He turned the phone toward Adam.

“This is us, senior year of college. Before, um…before we found out he was sick.”

Adam looked at the picture, not knowing what to make of it that the old picture was the wallpaper on Sam’s phone. Regardless, the picture was adorable. Sam’s face was smooshed up against a dusty blond’s, and the blond was indeed cute. A typical boy-next-door rounded face, long eyelashes and pale blue-gray eyes.

“He is cute,” Adam agreed. “Sorry to ask, but… he had a brain tumor?”

Sam clicked his phone off and stuffed it back into his pocket. He nodded. “Yeah. He kept forgetting things. Sometimes I feel guilty because we thought it was funny at first. Blamed it on pot and booze and stuff. But then he started forgetting really important things. Like his class schedule, or our friends’ birthdays. Then one day he forgot how to get home.”

Sam paused, blinking away tears that had formed in his eyes. “He called, so embarrassed. He said the streets looked familiar but he didn’t know whether to turn or go straight. He was so scared. So I went to pick him up, but I didn’t take him back to our apartment. I took him to the hospital.” Sam took a breath before continuing. “It was too dangerous to operate and…the other options failed.”

Adam laid a hand over Sam’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not. I actually love talking about him. Nobody asks. They’re all afraid to.”

Adam squeezed Sam’s hand. Their drinks were empty, and Tommy had yet to get on the floor with Sam. He motioned for the waitress. She stopped over, asking, “Another round?”

“Actually…” Adam paused, looking to Sam. “What was Landon’s sign?”

“Cancer.”

Adam couldn’t help but chuckle. “Can’t get away from the mood swings, can you?” Sam laughed at that too, and Adam said to the waitress. “How about three of the Cancers?”

The Cancer cocktail, which contained some orange vodka and something fizzy that tickled their throats, was voted best drink of the night by a long shot.

But the pull of the dance floor was too much to ignore, and Adam eventually started to drum his fingers on the table. He looked at Tommy hopefully.

“Huh uh,” Tommy said, killing that option. “But Sam needs to get out there.”

Sam opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out. Instead, his lips formed a smile, and he shrugged. “Sure, let’s dance.”

To Adam’s surprise, he and Sam made a good match for dancing. Sam was a little shorter, making it easy to keep eye contact with him, and Sam followed his lead. The beat was fast and they fed off the energy, moving until they both had the glistening sheen of sweat on their brows. But the whole time, maintaining just enough distance between them that they didn’t have to touch, didn’t feel the press or heat from each other’s skin.

When the song changed to something downtempo and seductive, Sam stood still, ready to make a hasty exit. But Adam, like a person possessed, with no will of his own, reached out, wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist, and brought him close. Eye to eye, chest to chest, toe to toe.

There was a moment that passed, in which Adam’s body tried to jerk away on instinct, in which Sam’s eyes flashed anger and panic, but then Adam spread his hand over the small of Sam’s back, feeling the heat of him. And Sam’s eyes fluttered shut. And then they were moving again. This time truly together.

Adam’s eyes fell shut too, letting his sense of touch take over. As they moved, his hands wandered slowly and subtly. Sam was bigger in his arms than he’d have imagined, broader, but harder too. His whole body felt strong and muscular. The firm small of his back, the stretch of his shoulders, the tautness of his stomach, the rise of his chest, it all came together beautifully, powerfully.

He knew what his hands were touching: the body of Tommy’s other lover. His hands were most likely taking paths that Tommy’s had taken. And though Adam knew Tommy wasn’t shallow enough to fixate on it, he also knew how much Tommy had to appreciate Sam’s body, how Sam’s muscles would tighten and loosen under his fingers, how the strength of Sam felt both sexy and comforting.

And for the briefest of seconds, Adam was jealous.

Of Tommy.

“We should go,” Sam said, as if sensing a seismic shift, Adam had to wonder if he truly had. Sam’s gentle hands pushed him away, just enough to get that much needed bit of space between them, and his face revealed slight irritation, like a kid made to dance with his baby cousin at a wedding. “Tommy looks tired.”

Adam glanced over at Tommy, relieved to have a second to school his features back to normalcy from the shock he was feeling. But Tommy was smiling dreamily from their table, looking at him (or perhaps it was Sam he was looking at) as though there was nothing else in the room.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here,” Adam said to Sam. Was it his imagination or was Sam pale? His olive skin looked really washed out.

Minutes later, they’d paid off their tab and were in the back of a cab, heading towards Sam’s apartment. Tommy was between them, nodding off. His hand was folded into Adam’s, on Adam’s thigh, but after a few blocks he leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder and went to sleep.

Sam met Adam’s eyes over the top of Tommy’s head. “We have the sexiest boyfriend ever. And the laziest.”

Adam agreed wholeheartedly and they shared a chuckle over that. They grew silent as all of L.A. passed by their windows. Then, Adam heard Sam whisper, “Thanks for tonight.”

Adam kept his gaze on the scenery but nodded. “Tommy seemed to enjoy it.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, adding pointedly, “He did. And you know, we did promise to do what was best for him.”

“So maybe we should spend more time together,” Adam suggested, quickly qualifying it with, “for Tommy’s sake.”

“Yeah. Sure. For Tommy’s sake.”

Adam breathed out slowly, as if something weighty and unmoving was sitting on his chest. After a moment he allowed himself to glance over at Sam, unsure of what he’d see. Irritation again? Or worse, mockery? But when Adam turned, he was met only with curiosity, Sam’s eyes trying to read his as much as he was trying to read Sam’s.

Then the cab was pulling up in front of Sam’s building, and they looked away.

“Hey,” Sam whispered, gently nudging Tommy awake. “I’ve gotta go.”

Adam watched as Tommy blinked, disoriented, and his lips formed a pout. “You’re leaving?”

“It’s Adam’s night, remember?” Sam cupped Tommy’s face with his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Call me sometime tomorrow, okay? ‘Night, M.”

Sam opened the door and crawled out and Tommy remained behind, staring at the space Sam had just occupied, leaning into it slightly.

Adam’s heart hurt. “Do you want to stay with him? If you’d rather be with him tonight—”

“It’s okay,” Tommy said, turning back to Adam. He shrugged. “I want to be with you. It’s just hard, you know, saying goodbye all the time.”

“I bet,” Adam said, but he didn’t have to speculate. Tommy was slumped in his seat, heavy with sadness. Tommy always took his time leaving, as if putting it off would make the situation go away, but now he wondered if Tommy looked this forlorn after walking out his door. He thought of what Sam had said: _This isn’t meant to be easy._

Still, there was no reason why it had to be so hard on Tommy, either.

Just as that thought was beginning to take root and grow into something else, Tommy stretched up and bit Adam’s ear, teeth pinching the soft part of his lobe, sending little earthquakes down Adam’s spine.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Tommy purred, and as he leaned in for a kiss, all else was forgotten.

*

Tommy held out a bottle of red wine, dangling it precariously over Adam’s glass. “Want the rest?”

Adam laid a hand over the rim of his glass. “I believe the rule is whoever does the dishes gets the last of the wine. Isn’t that the rule, Sam?”

“Yep, that’s the rule,” Sam said, grinning around his last mouthful of steak.

“Exactly when was it decided that I do the dishes?”

Sam set down his fork and patted Tommy’s hand. “I cooked and Adam bought the food so it makes sense.”

“Fine. Just because I don’t cook…” Tommy muttered, then stood to clear their plates. “Are you done, your highness?”

“I am. And don’t forget this,” Adam said, pointing to the wine.

“Yeah, as if that makes up for it.”

Tommy was still muttering about the injustice of it all when he left the room, leaving Sam and Adam alone in silence at the dinner table.

More than a month had passed since the night Adam had danced with Sam and meals like this were becoming routine. They’d made it a point to take Tommy out at least once a week together, although sometimes it didn’t entail going out at all. Sometimes, like tonight, they shared a meal at Sam’s, or watched a movie at Adam’s. And sometimes it was more than once. Adam couldn’t deny that he enjoyed Sam’s company, or that he was beginning to trust Sam’s opinions on more than just Tommy’s well-being. But still, moments like this, when they were suddenly alone with nothing to distract them and nothing to talk about, something awkward and stubborn settled between them. Adam would have called it the elephant in the room, only he couldn’t quite name the elephant. It wasn’t just the weirdness that would be normal for two guys who had the same lover; it was deeper and, Adam sometimes thought, darker. Like right before a storm, when the wind and drop in temperature signal that something’s coming.

Sam ran his finger over the grain in the wood. Adam laced his fingers together, unlaced them, and laced them together again.

“There’s um, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Adam blinked, then braced himself. “Okay.”

“I’m headed to New York in a week. I’ve got to meet with my publisher, approve jacket design, the final edits, all of that.”

“And you want to take Tommy.”

“No.” Adam’s eyebrows scrunched together at that. “I know you need him. For the album, I mean. You’re behind schedule and even though he might like to go back home for a while, I won’t really have much personal time so we wouldn’t even be seeing each other much.”

“So what do you want from me?”

Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I know this is insane to ask, but…”

Adam laughed a little, following Sam’s line of thought perfectly. “I’ll see that he checks in. More than usual. And that he eats right and doesn’t stay up too late and stays out of trouble on Twitter.”

Sam laughed but seemed relieved. “Exactly what I was going to ask. I’m embarrassed. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake.”

Just then there was a loud clanging crash in the kitchen and Tommy yelled, “I’m alright! It’s cool!”

Adam buried his head in his hands. “A grown man that would eat Taco Bell for every meal of the day if we let him, and still needs to be told to go to bed so that he won’t stay up all night. Trust me, I understand.” Adam paused, his smile fading. “He’ll miss you. You know a few days is all he can take. Are you sure you don’t want to take him with you?”

“But then he’d miss you,” Sam pointed out. Then he raised his eyes to Adam, sober. “If it wasn’t such an important time for you, the three of us could have gone. You’d love our apartment there, and Tommy could show you his favorite haunts.”

Adam drew in a sharp breath. Traveling together. Seeing Sam and Tommy’s home in New York. _Staying_ in Sam and Tommy’s home in New York. That was certainly a step. A really big fucking step.

“Really?” Adam asked.

“Really. Perhaps that’s something we could think about for the future.” He was quiet for a while, long enough for Adam to wonder what he was thinking, then Sam said, “A week is a long time for Tommy. I agree. I want you to know, though, that if he would like to stay here, you’re welcome to as well. He spends a lot of time at your house but this place is still his home, I know that’s the way he thinks of it. And if it’s easier on all of us to let him be here…”

Staying at Sam’s house. Yet another step that felt monumental.

Still, he couldn’t quite get past the implication that Sam’s place was the only place Tommy felt at home. Adam took a deep breath.

“I think we’ll be fine at my place. Home is where the heart is, after all.”

Sam stared. “All the same, if he wants to be here, you’re welcome. I’m trying to be diplomatic, Adam. Trying to do what’s best for him.”

“Implying that you’re the best for him isn’t exactly diplomatic.”

Sam sighed. “There’s a lot I’d like to argue with that statement—”

“Go ahead.”

“No.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You just have to understand that I’ve been building him a home for a while, you know? Not just here. In New York. In Ohio. For us for the rest of our lives.”

“I know. I’m aware that my involvement with Tommy screws up your plans.”

“Yes. Yes, it does.” Sam appeared to count backwards from ten while a muscle in his jaw flexed. “Regardless of where his home actually is, most of his things are here. And while that’s the case, you are welcome here if he wants you here.”

“Do you see that changing?” Adam asked.

“I think, Adam, that there will come a time when we will have to reevaluate what is in Tommy’s best interests, and I don’t believe either of us will like what we conclude. That said, I don’t believe it will be a surprise.”

Adam searched Sam’s eyes for a moment, again trying to get a read on him and failing, and so he cast his net wide, hoping to get a clue. “He seems happiest when we’re both here. With him.”

Sam nodded, though his face remained stoic. “I have to admit that I never believed he wouldn’t choose between us eventually. But I think we have to be prepared for that.”

 _Jesus._

Adam tried to process that, tried to wrap his poor confused head around it, but couldn’t manage. All he felt was the gravity of it, bearing down on him. He spoke barely above a whisper.

“Thank you for the offer to stay here. It’s good of you.”

Sam shrugged. “I know you would do the same. A month ago I wouldn’t have believed that at all, but now I do. I trust you, Adam.”

Adam smiled cheekily, trying to lighten the mood. “Gee, I like you too, Sam.”

“I said nothing about liking.”

“You cooked for me.”

“I cooked for Tommy. You were here by default.” In spite of himself, Sam cracked a smile.

In the kitchen, Tommy shut the water off and could be heard rifling through the drawers, getting out a towel. Adam called out to him. “Hey, Tommy Joe, I think Sam likes me.”

Tommy ducked his head in the room, drying his hands with the towel. “He did cook for you.”

Adam looked over at Sam triumphantly. “See?”

Tommy left them alone again. Sam was still fighting that smile, and the tension in the air had dissipated, replaced by something far more pleasant. “You like me, too, Lambert. Admit it.”

“I don’t know. You seem a little too Stepford Wives for me. You cook, you write, you have perfect hair. You probably clean and do laundry too. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Yeah. I can’t sing worth shit,” Sam quipped and Adam burst into laughter. “And since we’re on the subject, I can’t draw, I can’t play any sports, I’m a real bitch to travel with, and most of the time I don’t even really think I can write well. And most of all, I can’t keep Tommy happy by myself.”

Adam quit laughing at that. “That’s something we definitely have in common.”

Sam bit his lip. “Next time I have to go somewhere, it’ll be the three of us, okay?”

“Okay. But Sam, this does set a precedent.”

“I’ve been considering that, too. Your tour… the logistics… it could be a nightmare.”

Adam spread a hand over Sam’s on the table and Sam let him, straightening slightly from his touch but, Adam noted, out of surprise, not irritation. “Let’s cross those bridges when they come, okay? Isn’t that what we agreed to do?”

“Absolutely.”

“He’s happy for now. When we need to reevaluate, we’ll reevaluate. See? Simple. Relatively speaking.” Adam watched Sam’s shoulders relax with relief and then added with a wink, “Besides, you like me. Maybe it won’t be all bad.”

“What does he see in a cheeky bastard like you?”

“I have asked myself that question a million times, my friend. The answer never gets any clearer.”

Adam watched Sam shake his head at that, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad at all.

*

Tommy woke to distant rustling, unfamiliar sounds that he couldn’t place. Adam’s arm pinned him down, heavy and unmoving as he slept. With a shove that took too much of his strength, Tommy managed to lift Adam off of him and roll out of bed. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants and went to search out the source of the noise.

A lamp was on in the living room; a shadow glided on the wall as a figure moved around.

Tommy rounded the corner and let out an undignified squeal.

“Sam!” Tommy launched himself at his boyfriend, who had his hands full with his garment bag and suitcase. Sam dropped them and caught Tommy just in time, holding him up by the ass as Tommy greeted him with sloppy kisses.

“Took the last flight home,” Sam breathed between them. “Missed you.”

Tommy could only hum his agreement because he couldn’t stop kissing Sam. God, he was aching. A week without Sam. He’d felt it, underneath everything else, even underneath the desire for Adam, but it was only now that he could let it come to the surface, let it overtake him, let it be realized.

He climbed up Sam, legs locking behind his back and throwing off their balance. They tumbled onto the couch, laughing for only seconds before kissing again. They rolled, ending up side by side, Tommy leg hooked around Sam’s thigh, mouths never breaking apart.

As Sam’s fingers tunneled under the waist of Tommy’s pants though, Tommy tore his lips from Sam’s in a panic.

Sam sat back, worried. “What? Do I smell? It was a really long flight.”

“No,” Tommy said, grabbing Sam’s hand as he made a move to leave. “It’s not that. It’s, um…”

Tommy looked back at the hallway and Sam followed his gaze. “Oh. He’s here?”

Tommy nodded, guilt settling into his stomach. “He’s sleeping. It was just easier to be here so he’s been staying and—”

“Tommy, I told you he could. And I came home early. You didn’t know,” Sam said. In spite of the disappointment in his eyes, he added, “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

“Adam’s in the guest room,” Tommy said.

“Not ours?”

Tommy scrunched his face up, horrified. “No. That’s our bed. That’s our space.”

A surge of love warmed Tommy’s whole body when Sam looked relieved at that.

“Why don’t I go shower and meet you in our bedroom?” Tommy suggested, his voice pitched low, adding sex to every syllable.

Sam cast another glance down the hallway. “Stay with me, even though he’s here?”

Tommy pouted in spite of himself. “Is that against the rules?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

That gave Tommy pause. “I don’t know. I guess it feels a little weird.”

“It’s supposed to be his night,” Sam reminded him. “What if he wakes up when you’re not there? God, what if he hears us?”

The idea of it made Tommy’s stomach tighten. “You’re right. It’s his night.”

Tommy pushed himself up from the couch and stared down the hallway. Beyond one of the doors, Adam was asleep, unaware that he’d been left alone.

But then Sam’s arms wrapped him up from behind and Tommy smiled, sinking into them.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. “I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have come home early. I just missed you so much.”

“God, I’ve missed you.” Tommy turned in Sam’s arms. They felt so inviting, so comforting. How had he gone a week without them? Without thinking, Tommy blurted, “I want to stay with you tonight.”

“I want to let you.”

“Then don’t stop me,” Tommy said. His voice was pleading but he couldn’t be fussed to be embarrassed about it.

Sam glanced down the hallway yet again, his expression pained. Then he said miserably, “Think about this, Tommy. Please. Because I can’t.”

But Tommy couldn’t think about it. Not the way he needed to. Because all he could feel was the burning urge to be held by Sam, kissed, taken. Seven whole days without it and he’d been reduced to nothing but an urge.

Tommy moved as close as he could to Sam, so that they were chest to chest, then he kissed him long and hard – the way he knew Sam couldn’t resist. “Want. To stay. With you,” he whispered.

Sam looked even more miserable than before at that, but then his face relaxed. “Fuck it,” he breathed and pressed his mouth to Tommy’s. “Need you now.”

Seconds later they were in their bed, naked, tangled up. Their need for each other was like a freight train, too fast to stop, too much inertia propelling them forward. It wasn’t until Sam pushed Tommy away and sat back on his knees that they had a second to breathe.

The uncertain expression on Sam’s face made Tommy panic. “What?”

Sam grimaced. “God. He wears so much fucking cologne. It’s all over you.”

“And I’ll go back to him smelling like you. What do you want me to do? Shower a million times a day?”

“Don’t get angry at me. It was distracting. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well. Sorry I broke your shower rule. Sorry I tried to be spontaneous. Sorry I was so happy to see you that I forgot to scrub the cooties off of me.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it or anything—”

“I told you. I’ll shower.” Tommy made to leave.

“No. Don’t. Just stay.”

Tommy hesitated. Shower or not, he didn’t want to stay in the same room with Sam anymore. The mood was long gone.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy jerked his head up at Sam’s apology. For the first time he noticed how dull Sam’s eyes were, how tired. Not just tired, really. Beaten down and weary. “Really. You can bathe in his cologne, I don’t care. I’m just happy to be back with you again.”

Tommy sank back into the bed then, tucking his head between Sam’s chin and shoulder. “Was New York hard?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered.

“Did you go to Landon places?”

Sam chuckled sadly. “Yeah. And the book cover looks nothing like I wanted it to.”

Tommy smiled. Sam always had such high hopes for book covers. “Of course not.”

“I went to our places too.” Tommy picked his head up, eyeing Sam. He looked sad, bereft. “That was hardest, I think. I miss you in New York. I miss _us_ in New York.”

Tommy pulled Sam to him, resting his chin on top of Sam’s curls.

“Tommy,” Sam said after a minute, and Tommy squeezed him to show he was listening. “This is permanent, isn’t it? You’re never going to pick.”

“You said I never had to.”

“What I said and what I hoped are two different things.”

“That sounds a lot like lying,” Tommy said.

“Yes. But more to myself than to you.” Sam swallowed. “Then I kiss you and you smell like him and the lies I tell myself crumble.”

“You knew he’d be here tonight, didn’t you?” Tommy asked, voice measured. “You wanted to know for sure. You wanted to see it for yourself.”

Sam didn’t answer but the guilty way he picked at a hangnail was all the proof Tommy needed.

“Did you hope I’d leave him and come running to you when you walked through the door?” Tommy waited for an answer that again didn’t come. “And what if I hadn’t, Sam? And what if you’d walked in on us? What then?”

“I really did just miss you,” Sam said in his defense.

“That sounds a lot like lying too.” Sam flinched, turning away, and Tommy pinched his chin in his hand, turning Sam’s gaze back to him. “Look at me. You want to know that I’ll come running to you? I will. You saw it. But you should know that anyway. You know you own me. With or without Adam, you own me. We’re past this, Sam. Or at least I thought we were. So what, then? What is this really about?”

There was a switch somewhere inside Sam that took a lot to throw, but Tommy knew exactly how to do it. And god, he wanted that switch thrown. He wanted to see Sam’s anger fly out of him chaotically, because along with that rage, the truth would come out with it.

Sam’s face barely changed, but there was a flicker in his eyes of something dark. Something with the promise of danger. “I want a fucking plan, Tommy. We had one. Tour, back to New York, marriage, a baby with our best friend, happily ever after. Is there a happily ever after now? Is there any sort of fucking plan, or are we going to spend the rest of our lives like this, trading off nights and wondering if it’s okay to fuck if we don’t have his permission?”

There it was. The truth. Christ it felt good. Painful and twisting but so fucking good. Tommy almost smiled with the relief of it.

“Here’s the plan if you need one. I’ll love you forever. I’ll love him forever. And I’m never fucking choosing. I’m never leaving either of you. I can’t.” Tommy exhaled slowly. “So how’s that for a plan? Me loving both of you forever?”

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again he was calmer. Or maybe, Tommy thought, resigned. “Forever?” he asked.

“That hasn’t changed. That was never a question.” Tommy lifted a hand, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. He’d had a haircut in New York. It wasn’t long enough to tug like he liked.

“I like forever but that’s not much of a plan,” Sam said.

“Call it more of a general outline, then.”

Sam snorted. “You know how I am. I can’t work with a general outline.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more answers.” Tommy kissed Sam on the cheek. “Don’t try to force them from me ever again, though. Remember that every time you ask me to run to you, I’m leaving Adam. He loves me as much as you do.”

Sam looked appropriately ashamed of himself at that. “I know he does.” Sam waited a beat before adding, “Our old apartment felt so empty without you there. It was a tough week.”

“For me too.”

“Should I sell it?”

Tommy considered the question, then shook his head.

“Should I buy us a place here, then?”

Tommy didn’t need to consider that. He nodded.

“Are you going to go back to Adam tonight?”

Now that was a question that Tommy really had to think about. The only answer he could give was a compromise, which seemed to be the running theme for all three of them. “Not yet. Hold me a while. Unless you want me to shower first.”

“No. It’s okay. I kind of like it.”

“Adam’s cologne?” Tommy asked, amused and curious.

Sam shrugged. “It’s nice. Smells good on you.”

Tommy’s curiosity grew. “Is his cologne all you like about him?”

Sam’s lips twitched, fighting a grin. “I like that he’s a heavy sleeper.”

Tommy laughed and lay down, stretching his body against Sam’s. “Kiss me some more. Let’s try this early homecoming thing again.”

“Okay.” Sam pitched his voice low, in cheesy game show host mode. “I just flew in from New York City and boy, are my arms tired.”

Tommy glared. “There are much better uses for your mouth than corny jokes.”

“Point taken.” And Sam kissed him hard.

*

When Sam emerged from his bedroom, Adam was already up, clanging around in the kitchen. Sam stepped in, flinching as Adam all but slammed a frying pan on the stove.

Adam glanced up, giving Sam a look that was equal parts vitriol and disgust, then opened up the fridge to pull out a carton of eggs. He kicked the fridge door shut when he was done.

“I’m just going to grab some coffee, then I’ll be out of your hair,” Sam said, inching around Adam.

“I’m making eggs,” Adam replied.

Sam blinked. “Okay.”

“How do you like yours?”

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Over easy it is.”

“I have to write.”

Adam picked up a spatula and thrust the flat end in Sam’s face, so fast that Sam could feel the wind whip by his nose.

“You are going to sit your ass down and eat my shitty fried eggs and listen to every fucking word I say.”

For a wild second, Adam was sure Sam would either hit him, scream at him, or run, but he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he sat at the little table in the kitchen, plopping down hard in the seat.

Adam removed a mug from the cupboard above the stove and put it and the coffee pot in front Sam. Both banged loudly against the table. Then he went back to the stove, cracking an egg on the lip of the pan before throwing it, shell and all, inside.

“You know, this is my house. My kitchen. Those are my eggs. I don’t have to do—”

“This is Tommy’s house, too, and I’ll remind you that you _both_ invited me here.” Adam picked up the pan and slammed it back down on the stove. “I know this is your place. Trust me, I’ve been acutely aware of that fact this week, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed that he considers this place home while my own apartment is like a hotel to him. I’m aware of it every fucking second.”

Though Sam had his back to him, Adam could tell from the way his shoulders rose and then sank that he was considering, taking it in. Perhaps, miraculously, empathizing.

Adam schlepped a runny, shell sprinkled egg onto a plate and set that in front of Sam as well, taking the chair across from him for himself.

“Do you have any idea what it feels like to wake up in the middle of the night and the love of your life is not beside you but has gone to someone else’s bed?”

“Adam, I—”

“Don’t talk. That was rhetorical.” Adam looked down at Sam’s plate pointedly. “Eat.”

Sam swallowed, his face slightly green. “I, um, don’t have a fork.”

Adam growled incomprehensibly and stood, removing a fork from a drawer under the counter. He tossed it onto Sam’s plate.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, reluctantly picking up the fork. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You knew damn well what you were doing.” Adam took Sam’s mug, which was still empty, and poured coffee in it for himself. “And you knew damn well how I would feel. The next time you want to hurt me, just be a man and take a swing.”

Sam flushed. “I didn’t think he would stay. I really didn’t expect that.”

“Yep. Congratulations. He left me and stayed with you. Now you know.” Adam took a drink of the coffee. It tasted like ass. Worse. He wasn’t used to Sam’s machine. “But that’s something Tommy and I have to work out.”

“Don’t be mad at him about this,” Sam said. “He just missed me, that’s all. If it had been you instead, he would have left me.”

“Too late. He hurt me too. And you can’t tell me he didn’t know it.” Adam set his jaw. “This little arrangement is difficult enough, but when you start pulling stunts like this—”

“I hadn’t seen him in a week. Christ. Forgive me if I ruined your plans for the evening. You’ve ruined a few decades of mine.”

Adam flinched in spite of himself. That stung. They were past this. They’d talked about it enough, they’d spent months around each other now, there were invites for trips, for each other’s houses. They were _past_ this.

“He’s never going to chose, Sam. Face it.” Adam drew in a cleansing breath. “But that’s not the point anyway. The point is that we do have rules, or at least a code. Unspoken agreements between us. And last night you and Tommy broke one.”

“Unspoken agreements,” Sam scoffed. “I know I broke your rule—”

“Our rule.”

“—but had this been the other way around, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. If you’d been away from him that long, the same thing would have happened with you two. Can’t you see it was an exception?”

“Yeah, I can, Sam,” Adam shot back. “The exception was that you and Tommy invited me into your home and knowing full well how I’d feel about it, chose to hurt me anyway. All you had to do was call me. Tell me. Hell, not even you. Just Tommy. He could have woken me up and said he was going to be with you but he didn’t. He let me wake up alone, not that I couldn’t figure out where he was. The walls in this place are paper fucking thin.”

Sam winced but then his face relaxed, looking questioningly at Adam. “You would have been okay with him telling you that?”

“It wouldn’t have felt great but it would have been a hell of a lot better than waking up alone.” Adam pushed the coffee pot out of his way and leaned on the table. “I know where your head’s at about this. Mine’s been following the same lines. It’s going to mean more than one night in the same house. And if we don’t have some sort of arrangement between us, this whole thing will break down.”

“Rules again.”

“Call it what you want,” Adam said, impatient. “But there’s got to be something we can all agree on, some way to handle the… what did you call it? Exceptions.”

“You call me choosing to leave one of you for the other an exception?”

Adam and Sam both jumped at the sound of Tommy’s voice. Tommy entered the kitchen, his bare, tattooed arms folding across his chest. He glared at them.

“I do that every day. Every. Fucking. Day.”

“We know, Tommy,” Sam said gently. “That’s really not the issue right now, though.”

“No,” Adam agreed, “the issue is that you left me in the middle of the night to go to him.”

“Was I supposed to ask your permission?” Tommy asked snidely.

“Yes, actually,” Adam said back, voice rising. “I think it might be common courtesy when you’re jumping from one bed to the next to give us the heads up.”

Tommy jerked back as if he’d been struck. “Fuck you. Is that all this is to you, Adam? An excuse for me to be a whore?”

“Tommy,” Sam said, his voice soft. “I don’t think Adam meant to insult you by that. He’s emotional. You’re emotional. Maybe we should all step back and take a—”

“Isn’t this what you want, Sam? Me and Adam fighting? Don’t you get off on that?”

“Jesus,” Sam uttered.

“Tommy, calm down,” Adam said, trying to bring them all back to center. “Nobody wants anybody to fight.”

“No, you just want me to ask permission for every fucking thing I do now, like I’m some sort of servant.” Tommy shook his hair out of his eyes. “As if it’s not enough already that I have to choose which of you is going to be happy for a night and which is going to be lonely. And that’s not just it. I’ve got to think about which house I can be at, if I want to be away from home or not or if I even can, and then when I don’t have to choose that I still have to follow whatever shitty rule or whatever you think of. Jesus Christ. Should we have hand signals? Signs on the doors? Maybe I can put a big fucking Bat Signal in the sky so you and the whole fucking world can know who I want to be with?”

“That’s not what we mean. At all,” Adam said.

“Isn’t it? If I can’t be spontaneous, if I can’t actually be with who I want to be with, then what’s the point? It’s all the same, no matter how I go about it.” Tommy relented, voice softening slightly. “And really, would either of you want me, knowing I’d rather be with someone else? Fuck the rules. Fuck a schedule. If I have to keep choosing then _let me choose_.”

“It’s not that easy,” Adam said.

Sam agreed. “It’s not. Adam’s hurt by what we did last night so we have to have—”

Tommy let out a frustrated groan. “Jesus fuck, Sam. Have you not been listening? I _know_ I’m hurting you both every day. I get that last night was a little different for you, but not for me. I’m tired of it. I’m fucking tired of it. I want to be like any other people in love with each other. I want to be with you when I want to be and let it happen when it feels right. No rules.”

“But we’re not like other people, Tommy. We’re just _not_ ,” Adam said. “And all I’m asking for is you to be honest and yes, let me know some way ahead of time that you’d rather be with Sam. And I’m sorry if that sounds like a rule to you but I need something like that, otherwise I don’t feel like your boyfriend. I feel like some sleaze you’re hiding from your boyfriend.”

“Adam’s right,” Sam said. “I’m truly sorry I put you in such a bad spot last night, but he’s right. We should have run it by him first. It’s what needs to be done.”

“So we’re back to me asking permission again, like I’m the fucking help.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “We are trying to do our best. We are trying to accommodate you without also getting hurt at every turn. You wanted both of us and we’re trying to make that happen, so I think the least you can do is work with us on making it easier for everyone.”

“I didn’t want this,” Tommy hissed, making Sam brace himself and Adam’s ears perk up in interest. When he continued, his voice was poisonous. “You’re the one that suggested it, Sam. You’re the one that made me stay here even though I begged you, fucking _begged_ you, to let me go back to New York. We’d be married by now.”

“I was doing what I thought was best for you.”

“Yeah, and look where that’s got us,” Tommy said. He shook his head. “Fighting about rules. Asking permission for things we shouldn’t need permission for. Don’t blame me for this. I told you what I wanted months ago. This was your choice.”

“And what was I supposed to do? Go on knowing you were in love with someone else?”

“You were supposed to fight for me!” Tommy yelled. “Instead you practically gave me to him like some sort of Christmas present!”

“Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted,” Sam spat. “You expect me to fight? Where was your fight? You didn’t put up much of one when I suggested this.”

“Yes I did. I tried, you wouldn’t listen.”

“What you wanted, Tommy, was for me to tell you no and take that choice away from you, and I couldn’t do that. And I couldn’t do that because I love you.” Sam swallowed, and Adam had the sudden realization that he was close to tears. “So if you want to blame me for giving you a choice, fine. If you want to blame me that we’re all in this situation, then okay, I’ll take the blame for that too. But you need to understand that for this to work, there are some freedoms we have to give up. And I’m sorry, but total spontaneity might be one of them.”

“So why give me a choice when it’s not going to be a fucking choice at all?” Sam opened his mouth to say something else but Tommy waved him away. “Forget it. You two have fun with your rules. I’m out of here.”

Tommy stalked out of the kitchen. A minute later, the front door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the picture frames on the walls.

Adam exhaled, not realizing until then how long he’d been holding his breath. “Jesus. That didn’t go how I was hoping.”

Sam said nothing for a full minute, and the air was heavy and thick with anger and frustration. Then Sam spoke.

“I am sorry about last night. I knew it was going to hurt you and let it happen anyway. And I’m not just sorry because Tommy threw a fit, either.”

Adam nodded. He knew that Sam was truly sorry, because now their entire equilibrium was out of whack, the delicate balance between them was off. Sam still looked close to tears, and though Adam knew he was in the right, though he had been harsher on Tommy than he’d meant to be, he found he really hated how sad Sam looked.

“Do I really have to eat this?”

Sam was looking at his plate of runny egg and shells.

“No,” Adam said, and pulled the plate away from him. “Sorry I almost made you. Sorry about—”

“I have to go write,” Sam said, standing abruptly. “Just lock the door on your way out.”

Adam could only assume that by writing, Sam actually meant he was going to go to his room and cry his eyes out.

When Sam was gone, Adam got up and put the plate, egg and all, into the sink. He heard Sam’s door shut, the familiar sound of a computer turning on. And then, because he didn’t know what else to do, Adam made breakfast. For real this time. Twenty minutes later he carried a full plate of eggs, bacon, and toast to Sam’s study and pushed open the door.

Sam was staring at his laptop screen. The page was blank.

“Made you a real breakfast,” Adam said, setting the plate on Sam’s desk. When Sam didn’t move right away, he wondered for the first time if it was a stupid idea, if maybe he should have just gone home instead.

But then Sam smiled up at him, his eyes rimmed with red as though he’d briefly lost the battle to keep his tears at bay, and Adam didn’t feel so stupid anymore.

“Thanks. Don’t know if I’m hungry now, though.”

“Yeah, well. It’s here if you want it.” Adam turned to go but then stopped, glancing back at Sam. “Every relationship has its kinks to work out. Ours is no exception, as unorthodox as it is. This is just a growing pain. It’ll work out. It has to. That’s why we’re fighting so hard, right? We’re not giving up Tommy, and he’s not going to give either of us up.”

“If he comes back,” Sam whispered.

“He’ll come back,” Adam promised, but it did nothing to lessen the fear he saw in Sam’s eyes, so he offered more. “I have a few meetings today. Boring business stuff, but why don’t you come along? Keep your mind off of things.”

“I distract myself with writing, but thank you.”

Adam nodded, understanding that, but it was the only thing he could offer.

“Okay. Well, call me if you change your mind. Or… you know… if you need me or whatever.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Sam answered, and by the time Adam reached the front door, he could hear the clickity-click of Sam writing out his emotions into a new story.


	7. Shelter You

Adam’s cell rang just as he walked through his front door. He tossed the remnants of the day – some sheet music, forms to look over, copies of a tentative schedule – down on the table next to his couch and pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

His screen read, 8:24pm. It also read: Sam Raines.

“Hey,” Adam said as casually as he could. He and Sam may have had each other’s numbers for a while, just in case, but this was the first time Sam had actually called him.

“Hi. Is he with you?”

Adam set his keys on top of all his junk and sank into the couch. “No. He isn’t home yet?”

“No. And I haven’t heard from him all day.” The trembling note in Sam’s voice echoed the worry Adam had felt for the last nine hours. It held the same kind of panic and desperation.

“Me either. Have you tried his mom’s?”

“No, I didn’t want to worry her.”

Both men were silent. Adam’s heart was beating hard in his chest, in a rhythm that was staccato and uneven. “Okay,” Adam said after a minute. “I’ll make some calls. Sit tight.”

He hung up and stared at his phone. He didn’t want to call Tommy’s mom either. There was no reason to get her involved. And Tommy’s sister was just as bad an option. Monte? No. Tommy wouldn’t have gone to his house. He’d know that Monte would have just gloated about their relationship not working. Isaac? Sutan?

Sutan.

Of course. His life partner.

Adam dialed the number and soon Sutan’s deep voice was saying hello.

“Is he with you?” Adam asked before anything else.

He heard Sutan sniff. “If you mean the sexiest blond I know, yes he is. But he can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I think you know that answer, love.”

In spite of that, Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s still that angry?”

“Angry?” Sutan asked as if that surprised him. “Oh no. We’ve moved past angry and we are now in the enraged zone. Trust me, you’re glad he’s not with you.”

“He’s okay though? Other than being angry?”

There was some rustling, like maybe Sutan was moving. Perhaps out of earshot of Tommy. “I think he’s hurt, baby, though from what I understand, he did a number on you last night too.”

“Yeah, but this morning was horrible. Listen,” Adam said, getting up to pace. “I know he probably doesn’t want to hear it but tell him that we’re worried about him and we want him to come home.”

“We?”

“Yeah. Sam just called me. He sounded like he’s a fucking mess right now and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“From what Tommy told me, he should be. Sounds like he was a real asshole.”

Adam shut his eyes. “He took my side, Sutan. But whatever. Please, just tell him that we’re worried.”

Adam ended the call and stared at his car keys for a few minutes, trying to talk himself out of what he was going to do next. But he was too stubborn, so, with a curse, he picked up his keys and headed out again.

A half hour later he was knocking on Sam’s door, a plastic bag full of food hanging from one hand.

Sam opened the door. He’d changed out of pajamas at least, though he’d switched them out for a pair of gray sweatpants and a v-neck white undershirt. Adam couldn’t help but notice that it was tight. Wonderfully tight.

He swallowed. “Hungry?”

Though he was tired and pale, a warm smile touched Sam’s lips. “Starving. Haven’t eaten since someone made me breakfast this morning.”

“Sounds like whoever made you breakfast was a charming, thoughtful fellow.”

Sam’s smile got wider. “Thoughtful anyway. You really brought food?”

“Thai. I seem to remember Tommy saying you love Thai food once.”

“You have a good memory. Come in.”

Adam followed Sam back to the kitchen, where they moved around, digging out plates and forks, napkins and a couple bottles of beer. Adam began to dole out the food.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Sam said.

“Me either.” Adam licked at his thumb, which was coated in peanut sauce. When Adam looked up, Sam was watching, covetously. Adam grinned. “You really are hungry, aren’t you?”

Sam looked away quickly. “I guess I am. Hungry and miserable.”

“I hear you,” Adam said. “I keep replaying that fight over and over.”

Sam nodded. “And I want to take back things or tell myself to lower my voice and I can’t.”

“I wish I hadn’t brought it up.”

“No, it needed to be said. What I wish is that I hadn’t come home early.” Sam set his plate down and then leaned over the counter like he just couldn’t hold himself up. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Adam said, bending down so that he could see directly into Sam’s eyes. “Really.”

“It’s not. God knows where he is now, and if he’ll get over this and come back.”

“He’s at Sutan’s.”

“Really?” Sam pushed out a shaky breath, one that Adam was sure he’d been holding in for a while. “You talked to him?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me, but Sutan said he’s fine. Just angry still.”

“Jesus, he was angry this morning,” Sam said, and Adam nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe he left, though. He’s never left before.”

Adam, who had started to twist off the cap of his beer, paused. “He’s never left before? Even after a big fight?”

“No.”

“That’s impressive,” Adam mused and finished twisting the cap off his beer, bringing the bottle to his lips for a long drink. “I had an ex whose favorite thing was to slam doors on the way out.”

“Sauli?”

“Brad,” Adam said, smiling at the memory. “Sauli just cursed at me in Finnish.”

Sam laughed. “Landon was too stubborn to slam doors, even. That would have been conceding a little, in his book anyway. Then there was Jamie, who barely fought at all, and when we did he’d just get silent and then guilt-trip me to hell afterwards.”

“Jamie?” Adam cocked his head. “I thought Landon was your only boyfriend besides Tommy?”

“Landon was my only lover besides Tommy,” Sam specified. “Jamie’s married to another ex-boyfriend of mine, Cameron. I introduced them.”

“Ah,” Adam said, connecting the dots. “Tommy said I’d like Cameron.”

“You would. Jamie too.” Sam opened his own beer and drank deeply. “We’ll go to the house in Ohio after the tour. You should come with us, meet our friends. I’m sure you’ll need peace and quiet to rest after the tour anyway. I always do after my book tours, and they’re not nearly as involved. You’d like it. It’s just a small house in the middle of the woods.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Adam said, picturing it. “I’d love to.”

The two men took long pulls from their bottles, thinking. Then Sam said, “Adam, why are you here?”

“I’m here because I’m worried about Tommy, and scared like you are, and I thought it might be better for both of us not to be alone right now.”

Sam seemed to consider that, and then said, “And I’m glad for the company. Today’s been hell, and the only other person that could understand that is you.”

“Good. I like talking to you, Sam. I like _you_ , actually.” Adam snorted. “Hard to believe, since you’re sleeping with my boyfriend and all.”

Sam chuckled. “I know what you mean, though. I like you too. You’re really easy to talk to. And you bring good food.”

Adam picked up his plate and jerked his shoulder in the direction of the table. “Then let’s keep eating and talking.”

They certainly did that. An hour later the food was gone, and the conversation still had not dried up.

Sam peeled the label off his beer and proceeded to fold it into perfect squares. “Tommy still hasn’t called.”

“No, but we did manage to distract each other for a while. Should we call?”

“I don’t know. Should we?”

Adam thought about it. “If I know Tommy, he’ll just get more upset if we don’t give him space. He’ll be angry for a while, then he’ll feel guilty, then he’ll start missing us. He’ll be back before we know it.”

Sam smiled. “You do know him well. Are you going to head home, or do you want to stay?”

“I, um… I don’t want to be alone yet, if that’s okay,” Adam admitted.

“Me either.” Adam watched as Sam’s skin darkened with a blush. “Movie, then?”

“As long as it’s not scary.”

“Hell no. I’m chickenshit.”

So that’s how Adam and Sam ended up on the couch together watching _Planes, Trains, and Automobiles_. Once, when Adam was laughing at something John Candy said, he noticed Sam wasn’t and looked over at him.

Sam was staring at the screen but not watching at all, and his eyes were wet.

Adam picked up the remote and paused the movie. “Sam?”

Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose. “He was right, you know? He wanted to go home and I wouldn’t let him. Maybe we’d be married already. But it wasn’t just Tommy who had to find out. I did too. I had to know if he really loved you.”

“And I am so, so grateful for that.”

“But did I ruin it all? Me and Tommy, but you and Tommy too?”

“No. We’re all better for this, Sam. Tommy’s got both of us now, and we…well, I think we have each other. Who else am I going to be miserable with when Tommy’s mad?”

Sam didn’t laugh at that. “But is it really better? Tommy seems so unhappy.”

“He’s unhappy because he’s afraid he’s hurting us.” Sam shook his head, and Adam was at a loss for how to get through to him. Then, he did the thing that made the most sense to him. He put his arms around Sam, hugging him. “He loves us.”

But Sam went completely still and stiff in Adam’s arms, and it slowly dawned on Adam that Sam was uncomfortable. He drew back, apologizing immediately. “Sorry. I just… I’m touchy feely, you know? With all my friends. It’s just what I do. It’s a habit.”

“You are…” Sam searched for the perfect word, “…tactile.”

“Yeah. It’s just… we were doing the friends thing, and I guess I just stepped over a line. I forget that my lines aren’t other people’s lines.” Adam studied Sam’s face, trying to read it. “It makes you nervous.”

“A little.”

“With everyone or just me?”

Sam hesitated. “Just you. I think.”

“Oh.” Adam drew back, completely untangling himself from Sam. He sat up straight, arms crossed. “I see.”

“Nervous might be a bad word. It just…caught me off guard. And I’m not used to it. With you.” Sam swallowed. “And now I’ve made _you_ uncomfortable, which totally fucks up the friendship thing that we were doing.”

“Baby steps,” Adam said. “We hated each other’s guts a few months ago. We’ve come a long way, but that doesn’t mean we’re ever going to be huggers.” Sam chuckled at that, and then Adam said, “Maybe I should get home. It’s late.”

Sam glanced over at the clock. “I can’t believe he hasn’t called,” and the look on his face made Adam feel an awful, tight pain in his chest, and he had to touch Sam again. Had to make contact and let him know that he was there.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” Adam said, trailing a hand up Sam’s arm. Sam cocked a brow in question. “You’re taking away the only thing I’ve got in my arsenal.”

Sam smiled a little, understanding what Adam meant. “Well, if it would make you feel better—”

“It would.”

“Try again.”

This time they moved toward each other. Sam let himself be pulled into Adam’s arms, let Adam stroke a hand down his spine, let his head fall onto Adam’s shoulder. “He’ll come back,” Adam whispered.

“He’s the one thing I can count on. What if–”

“He’ll come back. Come on, let’s watch another movie.”

Adam pressed some buttons on the remote and found another mindless comedy, and they sank deep into the couch – Sam settling on him, Adam settling around Sam. Only moments later, the movie was forgotten, and Adam could think of nothing but the sound of Sam’s breathing, and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. He closed his eyes and let himself listen.

There was no telling how much time had passed when Adam woke up. The movie was long since over, but he couldn’t look at the clock from this angle for the time. He had somehow shifted so that he was half-lying in the corner of the couch, and Sam was snug up against him, his head on Adam’s chest, fast asleep.

Adam lifted a hand and ran his hand through Sam’s curls, smiling at the ticklish way they coiled around his fingers. Sam’s face was flushed, probably because it was so warm to be this close, and his pretty mouth was open slightly. He didn’t look worried or scared now, and he most definitely did not look uncomfortable.

He could stay like this for a while, just a little while, to let Sam get some much needed rest here, peacefully, in his arms. It’s not like he minded. It was nice to hold someone, especially while Tommy was somewhere across town, mad as hell at both of them. And, Adam had to admit, it was nice to hold Sam. To feel the steady rise and fall of Sam’s chest, the thump of Sam’s heart against his skin, to run his hands over the hard, curving muscles in Sam’s back.

Adam shook his head, wrestling that thought from his mind. He gave Sam a gentle squeeze.

“Hey. We fell asleep.”

Sam’s eyes opened slowly, blinking himself awake. He picked his head up off of Adam’s chest and his eyes grew wide as he realized where he was.

“Jesus. Sorry. I must have been tired.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, sliding off of Adam cautiously, moving like someone in shock, who doesn’t quite believe what’s happening to them.

“So much for baby steps, huh?” Adam joked, and it made Sam attempt a smile. He almost managed.

“I get cuddly when I’m sleeping.”

“So you’re not so untactile, are you?”

Sam did smile then, his know-it-all smile, which Adam had seen on his face a lot. Strangely, it didn’t piss him off anymore. “Untactile is not a word.”

“Write it into your book. Make it one. Maybe that sexy character based on me can say it.”

As Adam broke into hysterics, Sam grabbed the closest couch pillow he could find and whacked Adam with it once. Adam was just about to retaliate when the front door opened. The two men were about to get up, but Tommy was faster, appearing in the doorway before either of them could make their move.

He stood there, looking at them, and if anything about finding them involved in a quasi-pillow fight surprised him, he didn’t let on. Instead, he drew in a shaky, ragged breath and said, “I’m so sorry.”

Both Adam and Sam tried to say they were sorry back but Tommy cut them off.

“No. I’m selfish. And I’m really spoiled. And you’re both right. I mean, here I am trying not to hurt you but still being completely thoughtless to both of you.” Tommy turned his brown eyes on Adam. “Of course I should have told you that I was leaving. Or not left at all. And Sam…”

Tommy looked at him, and Sam sat up a little straighter. “I know you wanted to stay here for our sake, both of us, and I shouldn’t have thrown that in your face because I’m grateful for it. Every day. I get to be with both of the men I love, and it’s because of you.”

Sam smiled. “I will happily take the blame for that.”

Adam studied Tommy. “Sutan really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Tommy groaned. “How could you tell? He let me be angry for a while and then in no uncertain terms, explained how I was being an insensitive asswipe. His exact words.”

“We said a lot of things we didn’t mean this morning,” Adam said. “All of us. And I don’t ever want to do that again. Now, group hug?”

“Shouldn’t we talk it out?” Tommy asked. “You know, make up the rules?”

Adam shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m shot. I’m going to head home. Stay here with Sam, I’ll call in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Tommy’s one little syllable made both Adam and Sam freeze.

“Unless,” Sam amended, “unless you want to go with Adam. That’s fine too.”

“And here we are, making you choose again,” Adam said, wincing. “It’s okay. I really am tired.”

“You should stay.” It was Sam who made the suggestion, and Adam and Tommy both turned to him, surprised. Sam shrugged. “We have an empty bedroom, and it’s late, and I know it doesn’t make it any easier, Tommy, but if you’d want to go to Adam you could. I guess… what I’m trying to say is that if he’s here you can change your mind or whatever.”

Although the idea had sounded pretty damn good to be honest, with not having to drive home and all, the smile on Tommy’s face sealed it.

“That would be great. Thanks.”

The smile on Sam’s face was the bonus cherry on top. “Great. Let me find you some fresh sheets.”

When they were alone, Tommy turned to Adam, brows in a V. “You were here. With him. When I got here. What was that about?”

“We were worried about you and I figured it would be better to be together, worried, than alone. And you can’t do that to him again.”

Tommy stiffened. “Do what?”

“Leave.” Adam said. “He was devastated, Tommy, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“When I walked in you were laughing.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. Finally. It took most of the day.” Adam sighed. “Listen, all I’m saying is that… I guess I’ve been under the impression that he’s unflappable, and he’s not really. And I have to assume that maybe you think he is too.”

“I know Sam’s not always strong.” Tommy shrugged. “None of us are. I’ve never left before.”

“That’s what he said.”

“I’m sorry I shook him up,” Tommy said, sincere. “And you too. I didn’t want to say any more I didn’t mean, though.”

Sam entered the room again, and Tommy and Adam quieted. “Bed’s ready,” he said to Adam.

“Great,” Tommy said, stretching. “I’m going to go brush my teeth. I didn’t dare use Sutan’s…”

Sam and Adam chuckled at that, and then Tommy was gone.

“I noticed you have some stuff in the guest room,” Sam said, “but if you need anything else – say, a toothbrush – there’s a ton of crap in the linen closet.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. “For coming here. For staying. For the Thai food. For the distraction. For the hug.”

Adam laughed a little. “Maybe you should stay in my room. You seemed awfully content using me as a pillow earlier…”

Sam turned bright red. “I, um… I…”

“Kidding,” Adam said, although he made a mental note about Sam’s blushing and filed it away for later. “And thanks, too. I would have been crazy at home alone.”

Sam nodded. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sure. Hold him tight for me.”

Sam gave Adam a small smile, just a whisper of one. “You’ll probably wake up with him in the morning, Adam,” he said, and then disappeared down the hallway.

Adam had to hope Sam was right, that Tommy might just get up in the middle of the night and leave Sam’s bed for his. But he remembered the way Sam had felt in his arms, the subtle strength and fragility all rolled into one, and shook his head at himself.

He’d wake alone, he was sure.

*

Adam practically skipped out of the studio. He’d finished early with the vocals for the day and all that was left for those tracks was tweaking the instrumental, which wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow. That left him with a whole afternoon of nothing to do.

 _Nothing to do._

He wasn’t even sure what those words meant anymore. This was the first time in ages when he didn’t have anything pressing – no photoshoots, interviews, songwriting deadlines, studio time. Hell, he didn’t even have plans with Tommy, and of course he wanted to see Tommy, but he was sure that he was at home with Sam, doing whatever it was they did on Tommy’s days off.

Truthfully, he wasn’t too upset about it. A few hours alone could really go a long way to clearing his head and getting some much needed R&R.

Which was why when his phone rang, he almost didn’t answer it. But it was Sam, which made him worry, so he picked up as he climbed into his car and turned the key in the ignition.

The car roared to life. “Hello?”

“Hey. Busy?”

How to answer that. Adam decided honesty was the best policy. “Not really. I have a free afternoon, and it’s my first in a while.”

“Ah,” Sam’s voice said in his ear, and Adam could tell just from that one syllable that Sam understood. “Well, I don’t want to take up your time, but there was something I wanted to show you.”

“Show me?” Adam asked. He turned the car down the street and pointed it toward faster, less congested roads. Maybe the highway. Maybe he’d just drive for a while. “Why me?”

“It’s something I want to buy for Tommy, and I need a second opinion.”

That piqued his curiosity, and Adam debated. On one hand, he had the rare opportunity to spend a day in sweatpants watching TV. On the other, he had to know what Sam was thinking of buying Tommy, didn’t he? And he’d get to see Sam, which, he had to admit, was a bonus. When he’d started looking forward to seeing Sam, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint, but Adam kind of liked the change.

“What’s the occasion? You guys have an anniversary coming up?”

“No occasion. It’s just kind of… big. Can you come?”

“Sure,” Adam said, giving in to curiosity, and Sam gave him an address where he should meet him. When he hung up, he punched the address into his GPS and raised a brow, but followed it anyway, trusting the device completely.

It was about a half hour later when he pulled into the circular drive of a large house. A gorgeous house. It was all timber and stone, but also crowded with windows, making it seem more modern than rustic. Adam mused that it looked like it had been kicked out of Aspen for being too airy and made to live in California instead.

But what was this place?

Sam’s Porsche was parked in front of the door, so Adam parked his own car and stepped out cautiously, looking around as if he could garner clues from the front yard itself.

Then the front door opened wide and a woman in a pretty gray dress suit waved to him. “Adam! So good to see you! Sam’s out back. Come on in!”

Deanna Kelly. Adam would have recognized the voice anywhere. She’d been Adam’s real estate agent for years, had helped him with everything he’d been able to buy or rent since Idol, but more than that, she was the biggest sweetheart he knew. She also had a voice that was as nasal and grating as Fran Drescher.

“Dee!” Adam said, taking her up on her offer to come in the house, and he picked her up for a hug right there in the doorway.

“So glad to see you’re back into real estate,” Dee said as Adam squeezed her. “Best investment you can make, you know. And Sam told me you’d need lots of room, so when this place went on the market, he was the first person I called. Great area, Adam, really. Not too far from the city but enough that there’s privacy. And Jesus, have the property values gone up here.”

Adam let Dee go and looked around himself as the pieces of the puzzle came together. Sam was looking to buy this house. For Tommy.

Maybe not just for Tommy.

Suddenly Adam couldn’t breathe. He bent over a little, trying to draw in a breath. He could feel Dee’s eyes on him.

“Okay, it’s a little bit of a drive, but I promise, it’s worth it.” She proceeded to type something on her Blackberry, oblivious to the fact that Adam was having a panic attack. “Besides, the resale value, I’m telling you… Anywho, I was going to give you the tour but it looks like I have to jet, love. Sam will show you around. I gave him the key for the day. Shh, don’t tell. The office would have my ass. Ciao!”

And then Dee and her grating voice were gone, and all Adam could hear was his pounding heart and the buzzing of a million thoughts that flew through his head too quickly to decipher.

“Hi.”

Adam straightened. Sam was standing at the other end of the foyer, which Adam was just now seeing for the first time.

“Holy shit,” Adam breathed. It was gorgeous. High, vaulted ceilings, beams of exposed wood, asymmetrical walls that morphed into bridge-like walkways and stairways and Christ, it was like he could see the whole house from here. Everything was open and exposed and wonderful. The foyer led into a living room and the kitchen and off to the right, a study, and a dining room beyond that. The house didn’t seem to stop, and it certainly didn’t get any less beautiful as it went on.

“Like it?”

Adam didn’t answer. “This is for Tommy? This is the thing you want to buy him?”

“Yes. Think he’ll like it?”

“From what I can see of it, he’ll love it.”

“But do you?”

Adam felt like he could cry. He wanted to cry, and he couldn’t fucking breathe. He wheezed out, “Why does it matter if I like it or not?”

“I think you know the answer to that already, Adam.”

Adam made a sound, a slight whine through his nose, and Sam moved toward him, putting an arm around him. It had been two weeks since the fight with Tommy, two weeks since he’d first hugged Sam, and they’d gotten used to each other’s touches. Adam had spent most of those nights in Sam’s house, either with Tommy or without him, and it was so easy to touch while being in the same space. Little touches, barely noticeable ones. Like his hand on Sam’s back as he reached around him for something in the fridge. Or a hand through Sam’s hair, or fingers stroking down his arm, to get his attention, or to give him reassurance, or just to let him know he was close. Then, of course, there were the hugs before bed. Slight ones, timid ones. Hugs that held back, sometimes just one-armed, but still enough to say goodnight.

Sam’s arm around him now relieved some of the tension and brought him back to center.

“I know it’s overwhelming,” Sam said. “But think about how happy he’s been having both of us in one place. Adam, think about how happy _we’ve_ been, knowing he’s never too far away.”

Adam said nothing; he couldn’t trust his voice yet, but he nodded.

Sam slipped a hand into his and pulled. “Come see the place, and then we’ll talk.”

Adam followed Sam, in awe of each room. Everything was wood or stone, glass or chrome, and the place flowed – one room into the next, the rooms out into patios or decks, the decks and patios out into the hillside beyond. Past the kitchen, on a deck that wrapped around the whole backside of the house, Sam and Adam paused to look at the view. Down below was a pool, surrounded by matching stone and wood and all the necessities, a whole other house in their backyard. The hill sloped downward and from this vantage point, it looked as though all they had to do was throw a stone to hit the mountains across the valley. The sky stretched to eternity, pale blue and tinged with gold, and the hillsides shimmered beneath it.

“This is amazing,” Adam whispered.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Our hillsides in Ohio are all green but still, this reminds me of home. Especially inside. This house is kind of like bringing the forest indoors.”

Adam nodded, agreeing and seeing how this place would make Sam feel at home, seeing how it would make them all feel that way. It was big but not too big, homey but also the kind of place you could show off to friends, open but not so much that you felt exposed. There were rooms for play, rooms for work, rooms for music and movies and relaxing. There was a huge kitchen with a spot at the counter to eat, a space for a table for casual dining, and the big showcase dining room where they could have all their friends over for an event.

“There are five bedrooms. Tommy could have his own,” Sam said, then smirked. “You know, for the nights where he doesn’t want to bother with either of us.”

Adam chuckled, and though he was already so in love with the house it hardly mattered, Sam pulled him through all of the bedrooms. Two were attached to private bathrooms that took Adam’s breath away. Both had amazing bathtubs in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, so that you could be one with nature while you soaked, and both had the biggest walk-in closets he’d ever seen. Both also had large sitting rooms and fire places.

It was almost as if the house had been designed for two separate families.

“One is technically the mother-in-law suite, but you can’t really tell which one,” Sam explained, as if reading Adam’s mind.

“It’s perfect,” Adam said, and it was then that he noticed that the deck outside the master bedroom ran past the bathroom windows and beyond, linking it to the other master bedroom. They could all spend the evening looking at the stars together, even if they went to separate bedrooms after.

Sam must have noticed where he was looking and tugged on Adam’s hand. “Come outside.”

The view from the bedroom decks was a little different than the view from the deck below. It felt more private, more intimate. Adam leaned on the railing, feeling a bit like a king surveying his kingdom.

“Dare I ask how much?”

“Lower than you’d expect, but more than either of us could pull off separately.”

Adam had figured that much from the size and location of the place alone. “But exactly?”

Sam spoke the number with a wince. Adam whistled.

“I know,” Sam said. “But I think it’s—”

“Oh, it’s totally worth that,” Adam agreed before Sam could finish. “And doable. I mean, I’m no Michael Jackson—”

“And I’m no J.K. Rowling.”

“—but we could do this. With both of us,” Adam said, his brain already working out the math, factoring in what he knew of Sam’s income and both of their impending releases.

“Right, it’s not a risk at all,” Sam said, then added, “…financially.”

Adam took a big breath. “But are _we_?”

“I’m committed to Tommy,” Sam said. “That’s not changing.”

“And you know I’m committed to him as well,” Adam said, “but is a common commitment enough? We’re talking millions here.”

“If you want our attorneys to work out an agreement of sorts, I’m sure they can work out something.”

Adam studied Sam. “That’s not exactly what I want.”

“Well, regardless of any preconceived document, if there are any issues, I’m sure we can work them out.”

“Sam…” Adam said.

Sam turned away, leaning over the railing of the deck. “I know. It’s terrifying. Not just because it could fall apart, either.”

“No. It’s terrifying because this locks us in,” Adam said. “This isn’t just a commitment to Tommy, or even to each other. It’s a commitment that we’re going to keep doing this, going to keep sharing him. This makes it—”

“Permanent,” Sam said, and Adam nodded.

“Is it permanent, Sam?”

“Isn’t that the question we’re always trying to answer?”

“Yes. And we’re no closer to an answer, are we?”

Sam blew out a breath. “Here’s what I know: I know I want to take care of Tommy, to be, for lack of a better term, a provider for him. I want to give him a house he loves, I want to give him security, peace of mind, support. I want to give him a home, Adam, and a family.”

“I want that for him too.”

“I know,” Sam said. “And you realize, of course, that we are his family.”

“Yeah, his family, however weird and fucked up this situation is.”

“Is it so bad?” Sam asked, his olive eyes sad.

Adam reached for Sam’s hand, and Sam gave it to him. “Not at all. I just meant that it’s a little unconventional. And you’re right. Tommy’s happy. We’re happy.”

“So here it is, right?”

“Here it is,” Adam agreed.

“We buy him a house? We take care of him, together? Possibly forever?”

Jesus.

Forever.

It settled into the pit of Adam’s stomach, warm and heavy, and he thought of Tommy, of how much he wanted forever with him, wanted a family with him. Then he looked into Sam’s eyes and saw something in them too, love for Tommy as well, perhaps, and kindness and hope. But more than that, he saw in Sam’s eyes a thousand promises, a thousand vows of dedication and devotion, of strength and resolve.

Maybe it wasn’t such a risk after all.

“Let’s buy him a house, Sam. Together.”

Sam threw his arms around Adam, squeezing him tight, and it wasn’t lost on Adam that this was the first time that Sam wasn’t holding back.

*

“Is the blindfold really necessary?” Tommy asked, annoyed, from the tiny back seat of Sam’s Porsche.

He heard the familiar sound of the 911’s gears changing as the car picked up speed, and over that, the more unwelcomed sound of Sam and Adam snickering.

“Do you have any idea where you are?” Sam asked, and Tommy shook his head, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms over his chest. They hadn’t been driving all that long but he could tell they weren’t in the city anymore. The roads were too crooked; Sam was driving too fast. He could feel the sun on his face but that was no help, since he had no idea which direction they were heading. And damn it, Adam knew how to make a blindfold. The silk of one of his scarves covered Tommy’s eyes completely, down over the bridge of his nose.

“Not a clue,” Tommy grumbled. “You’d better not be taking me to some weird voodoo ritual or some shit where I’m the human sacrifice.”

“Relax, they only sacrifice virgins,” Sam teased.

“The voodoo that you do is all I can do to make me into your fool…” Adam sang lightly, cracking Sam up.

Then, because he couldn’t sing, Sam started in on his best David Bowie impression, which sounded more like The Count from Sesame Street than anything. “You remind me of the babe.”

Adam jumped right in. “What babe?”

“The babe with the power!”

“What power?”

“The power of voodoo!”

“Who do?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

“Remind me of the babe!”

Tommy sank further into the seat as his boyfriends were lost in hysterics over their little performance.

“This had better be good if I’m going to have to put up with your weird ass bullshit for much longer,” Tommy muttered, which only made them laugh more. Tommy would have rolled his eyes if they hadn’t been covered by a scarf, but he listened to them, smiling at how well they were getting along, their genuine affection for each other warming him to his bones.

A little while later, the car slowed to a stop. Sam’s sure hands guided him out of the back seat and Adam’s deft ones untied his blindfold.

Then Tommy saw the house.

“What is this place?” He whispered, in awe. “A ski lodge?”

“This is your surprise, Tommy,” Adam said. “Your home.”

“ _Our_ home,” Sam added.

“Ours,” Tommy repeated, eyes locked on the beautiful structure of timber and stone in front of him. Then he turned to Sam. “As in, yours and mine?”

“And mine,” Adam said, and Tommy turned to him. “Sam and I… we bought it for you. For all of us.”

“But we haven’t signed anything yet,” Sam said. “So if you don’t like this place, we can find another. But they’ve accepted our offer, and everything’s ready to go if you do.”

Tommy looked back at the house. “You bought it together?” he asked, unable to quite comprehend it.

“Yes,” both Adam and Sam said, then smiled at each other. Then Adam added, “So the three of us will be living together. From now on. If that’s okay with you.”

Tommy didn’t have to think about it. The past few weeks, with Adam nearly living at Sam’s house, had been almost perfect. When he went to sleep they were both there, when he woke up they were both there; when they had dinner, ate breakfast, came home, they were both there. It was the closest thing Tommy imagined he could get to truly perfect.

“Yes,” he said, then closed his eyes, breathing slowly before he asked, “but is it okay with you?”

A hand slipped into each of his own, one Sam’s, one Adam’s.

“We talked it over. Tommy, we want to give you this – a home, a family, both of us here for you all the time.”

It was Sam who spoke, but Adam squeezed his hand, and Tommy passed it on, squeezing Sam’s.

“Wanna see it?” Adam asked, excited and impatient.

Tommy laughed. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Tommy fell in love with the place the second he walked in the door, and his love for it only got deeper as he saw the potential for a music room, a study for Sam, the glorious master bedrooms and baths, the pool, and the view. He took in every inch of the house, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over it while Sam and Adam beamed proudly.

“So you like?” Adam asked when the tour concluded back where they’d started, the foyer.

Tommy chuckled. “Like it? I want to have its babies.”

Adam and Sam exchanged a look, and Sam dug his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll call Dee and let her know.”

Sam excused himself and walked back into the kitchen, where he could be heard talking over particulars with the real estate agent.

Tommy studied Adam’s face, which had grown sober. “This means it’s permanent,” Tommy said.

Adam nodded, his expression indecipherable. “We told you that you never had to choose.”

“I know, I just never quite believed that, I guess.”

“We didn’t either, I don’t think. Not until we talked about buying this place.”

“This is…” Tommy searched for a word, but could come up with none better than, “…big.”

“Indeed,” Adam said, and finally he smiled. “It’s like moving in with someone you love, plus some extra kinks built right in for good measure. Because, you know, living with one person isn’t hard enough, apparently. We really like a challenge.”

Tommy’s stomach fluttered with nerves. “If you really don’t want—”

“Tommy,” Adam interrupted, silencing him by sliding his palm over Tommy’s cheek. “I want this. I want you, I want us, and I want you to have Sam. I’ve liked seeing you so happy with both of us around. He’s good for you. And it’s great having someone like him around, because we totally get each other, you know? He’s… well, I guess he’s become a friend. I like him, Tommy. I like him a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Tommy said. He narrowed his eyes at Adam, thinking. “You have seemed very close with him lately.”

Tommy watched as Adam’s cheeks colored. “He’s fun.”

Just then, Sam walked back into the foyer. “Dee said she can get us the contracts first thing in the morning. She said we could meet her back here, if we wanted.”

“Back here?” Tommy asked. “You mean we’re not staying here tonight?”

Both Adam and Sam stared at Tommy, puzzled. “No,” Sam said. “Where would we sleep? We have no beds.”

“Or food. Or plates on which to eat food,” Adam added.

“Oh,” Tommy said, disappointed, and felt a look pass over his head from Sam to Adam, followed by a sigh from both men.

“Christ, you’re spoiled,” Sam said, snorting. “We’ll stay here if you want. We can order pizza or something.”

“Exactly where will we sleep, though?” Adam asked, dubious.

“Where is your sense of adventure, Adam Lambert?” Tommy asked, giggling. “We can have a slumber party on the floor!”

“With no blankets? Did you not notice that the whole house is tile or hardwood?”

Adam looked to Sam for help, but Sam was too amused to be any assistance. “Okay, so pizza and blankets. I saw a Target a few miles back.” He winked at Adam. “It could be fun.”

“Come on, Princess,” Tommy teased Adam. “Give up your big comfortable bed for one night and spend the night with us. The first night in our new house.”

Tommy knew Adam wouldn’t be able to resist his puppy-dog eyes, and seconds later, Adam’s shoulder’s drooped. “Alright. But we’re doing this my way. We’re going to need wine. No, champagne. Let’s make it a celebration.”

“Perfect,” Sam said. Then, again, he and Adam exchanged a look that seemed to communicate something that Tommy couldn’t understand, and Adam nodded. “Then I’ll go find some champagne. And some blankets and some other necessities. I’ll be back in… maybe an hour?”

“Sounds great. Thank you, Sam.”

Then he was gone, and Adam and Tommy stood alone in the foyer.

“What the hell was that?” Tommy asked. “Did you and Sam just have a whole conversation without words?”

“Yes, and if you haven’t noticed, he’s giving us some time alone.”

Tommy screwed up his face in confusion. “But why?”

“Maybe just to be generous. Maybe because he’d like to be with you tonight, or maybe because he really is planning on having a slumber party and none of us will have a chance for this later.” Adam shrugged. “Regardless, we have some time alone in our new house. Anything you want to do?”

Tommy’s mouth went dry. “I have a couple of ideas.”

“Me too,” Adam said and pulled Tommy, without finesse, through the house to the deck in the back. Tommy raised an eyebrow in question, and Adam purred, “Did you notice we’re out here all alone? No one for miles.”

Tommy knew exactly what he was getting at, and the thought made him so hard that he had to reach down and palm his dick through his jeans. Then he did the same for Adam. When Adam moaned loudly, holding nothing back here in the wilderness, Tommy nearly lost his mind. He started to sink to his knees.

“No,” Adam said, grabbing him and pulling him back up. “Me first,” he murmured against Tommy’s neck. “Want to get you off so bad…”

Then Adam was on his knees, tugging down the zipper of his jeans, and Tommy leaned back against the railing, grappling for some kind of balance. Up here in the hills, in the early spring day, the air was just chilly enough to have a bite. But Adam nearly swallowed him, taking as much of Tommy as he could into his mouth, and the wet heat was such a startling contrast to the cool air that it overwhelmed him and he had to push Adam back gently, begging, “Too good. Jesus fuck. Slower.”

So Adam took his time, swallowing Tommy again and again, bringing Tommy closer to the edge bit by bit. Tommy could do nothing but hold on to the rail for the support his legs could no longer provide.

“Adam,” Tommy warmed, hips jerking to meet Adam’s mouth. “Gonna…”

“Not yet,” Adam said, catching his breath. “Need you.”

Adam pulled at Tommy jeans, tugging them over his thighs and knees, down to the wood of the deck. Then he sucked a few of Tommy’s fingers into his mouth, getting them wet.

Tommy didn’t need to be told what to do with those. He sank down to Adam’s level, lying on his back and spreading his legs wide to give Adam a good view.

“Fuck,” Adam whispered, eyes on Tommy’s fingers as he pushed them inside himself, scissoring, getting himself ready. Adam pulled off his own clothes, his gaze never straying from Tommy’s hand, and when he was naked, he crawled forward and dropped down, pressing his mouth against Tommy’s hole. He licked and lapped around Tommy’s fingers, and Tommy moaned, arching up to meet Adam’s mouth.

“Shit. Tommy, I can’t wait—”

“I’m ready, Adam.”

“But—”

“Fuck. Now. Please.”

Adam licked at Tommy one more time, pushing his tongue deep inside for good measure, then he crawled up Tommy’s body and gripped one of Tommy’s hands in his before pushing inside him.

Tommy arched and the sound of Adam’s name carried down the hillside. They paused, listening as the sound died out and it was quiet again.

“Gonna take some effort to get noticed out here,” Adam said, pushing further into Tommy.

Tommy lifted himself up, meeting Adam’s hips, his laugh breathless. “Up for the challenge?”

Adam pulled out, then sank back inside Tommy again. “You have to ask?”

Tommy moaned – a broken, frustrated sound that came back to them this time, echoing off a distant hill. He smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “Come on, baby boy. The neighbors need to hear.”

Even miles away, the nearest neighbors had to have heard what came next. Moaning, pleading, curses, orders, begging, all in tones of escalating desperation and volume, until with one last strong, deep thrust, they both went over the edge.

Adam collapsed on top of Tommy and said, “Ouch” in a voice that was hoarse and abused.

“Shit. And you have to sing tomorrow.”

Adam chuckled into Tommy’s neck. “My voice can handle it, M. It’s my knees I’m concerned about.”

Adam sat back, revealing skinned knees from the deck’s hard wood. Tommy covered his mouth, trying to contain a laugh. “That looks a hell of a lot worse than rug burn.”

“Yeah. Didn’t notice it so much while it was happening…” Adam said, starting to laugh himself. “Hurts like a mother fucker now.”

Tommy let his laughter escape. “Oh my god. You need Neosporin or something. Rubbing alcohol maybe. Don’t want that infected. It’s gross enough already.”

“I’m so glad you find this amusing,” Adam said, still laughing too. He picked up Tommy’s clothes and threw them at him. “Get dressed. When Sam’s back we’re going to the drugstore.”

But inside the house, while Adam disappeared into the bathroom to clean his wounds, Tommy sent a text to Sam, adding a few more necessities to their list. Then he joined Adam in the bathroom.

Adam was sitting on the toilet seat in his boxer-briefs, picking what looked to be like splinters out of his knees.

“I hope I was worth it,” Tommy said.

“Hell yes, you were. I’d go back out there and do it again if you’d let me.”

Tommy shook his head at Adam and knelt in front of him, shooing Adam’s hands away. He started to tweeze out a little splinter with his fingernails.

“Water’s on, but the electric’s not,” Adam said through gritted teeth as Tommy pulled the splinter out.

“Weird. Maybe Sam will think of getting candles.”

“There’s a great fireplace in the living room,” Adam said, his tone suggestive.

Tommy smiled and started on another splinter. Adam gripped the side of the toilet with white knuckles. “I know, I love it. I think we should sleep there tonight.”

They fell into silence while Tommy worked, the only sound was the occasional hiss from Adam. Then Tommy spoke again. “You called me M.”

Tommy raised his eyes to Adam, who looked as shy as Tommy had ever seen him look. “Did I? I guess I like it. You’re my muse, too, after all. But if it’s Sam’s thing—”

“I like it,” Tommy said. “And I don’t think Sam would mind.”

They said nothing more, but Tommy noticed the way Adam was smiling – satisfied and content.

A door opened somewhere within the house, though Tommy was too unfamiliar with the house to tell which one, and Sam’s voice called out, “Guys?”

“Bathroom!” Adam answered and in seconds Sam appeared in the doorway, several large plastic bags hanging from his arms, and one smaller, with a few narrow brown bags stuffed inside.

It appeared that champagne had indeed been procured.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at them and Tommy felt himself flush. “There was a slight mishap,” he said by way of explanation.

“Wondered why you asked for Neosporin. I thought to myself, how much trouble could they have gotten into in such a short amount of time? But now I see,” Sam said, eyes sparkling with laughter. He set down his bags and dug through one of them, pulling out the ointment and some bandages. Tommy took them and set to work on Adam’s knees as Sam watched, amused. “The back deck?” he asked.

Adam snorted. “It’s been properly christened.”

Sam’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “We should probably think about resealing that deck before summer.”

“Needs some sanding,” Adam said, then bit his lip as laughter threatened to bubble over.

“Maybe some foam cushions, too,” Sam said, and that was it, the three of them lost it, holding onto their sides and anything around them as they let their laughter loose.

When they finally got a grip, Adam stood, running a hand over Tommy’s handiwork with the bandages, and then stepped into his jeans. The tight boxer-briefs left nothing to the imagination, and Tommy had to wonder if Sam noticed.

One glance in Sam’s direction told Tommy that he definitely noticed.

Sam was staring with a nearly hungry expression, then he turned his head and closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to block the image from his head.

“Well, the water’s on but the electric’s not,” Adam said, taking no notice of Sam or Tommy’s stares. “Which means that in a few hours, we’re not going to have any light. Maybe not any heat, either, not that it matters too much right now. But still, it can get damn cold in the hills.”

“I got eight blankets,” Sam said. “Excessive, maybe, but considering we have no mattress…”

“Can we sleep in front of the fireplace?” Tommy asked, voice filled with childlike hope. “And maybe get some candles? And ice cream?”

“Of course. And if you’re good, maybe we’ll get you a pony for Christmas.” Adam rolled his eyes, then looked to Sam. “I blame you. He was spoiled long before I came into the picture.”

Sam pretended to be shocked and horrified at the suggestion. “Oh yeah, this is all my fault. Like you could say no to that cute widdle face either…”

Like it was a rehearsed routine, both Sam and Adam pinched one of Tommy’s cheeks in unison. Tommy swatted them away. “Hey, you fucking promised me a slumber party. What’s a slumber party without ice cream?”

“I got pillows too,” Sam said. Adam gave him a look. “For the pillow fight,” he explained.

“Of course. For the pillow fight.” Adam laughed. “Well, I think maybe I should get some candles then, maybe some firewood, pick up a pizza, and apparently ice cream. That could take a while.”

Sam didn’t at all seem surprised by the offer. “That would be wonderful, Adam. The keys are on the kitchen counter.”

“What?” Tommy demanded. “That’s not fair. You barely let me drive your car. And you’re going to let him?”

Sam took a concentrated interest in his fingernails. “Adam’s a good driver.”

“I can’t believe this,” Tommy said, throwing up his hands in frustration.

“Tommy,” Adam said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take it personally. You just don’t really know how to handle a sports car.”

“Pffft. I can drive your stupid Ferrari or whatever it is,” Tommy said, making Adam and Sam smirk at each other.

“I drive a Porsche, Tommy,” Sam said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “And Adam drives a Mercedes that makes my Porsche look like the tortoise in this fable. You don’t even know the names of what we drive. How can we give you all that horsepower to play with if you can’t respect the authority of these fine automobiles?”

Tommy fumed. “Stupid elitist bastards and your stupid pretty cars with the stupid horsepower and—”

“Tommy,” Sam said, planting an unreturned kiss on Tommy’s mouth. “We’re kidding. But you’re missing the point, which was that Adam offered to leave us alone for a bit. So that maybe we can christen another place in this house.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, flushing. “Right.”

“Candles, ice cream, pizza, firewood,” Adam said, grinning knowingly. “I’ll be back.”

When he was gone, Sam and Tommy stood looking at each other in silence.

“Is it going to be like this all the time now?” Tommy asked.

“The coming and going?” Sam asked, and Tommy nodded. “No. It was just easier this way. For today. We’ll get used to it.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “I should, um, hop in the shower or something.”

Sam cupped his jaw. “Tommy, we don’t have to do anything. You’re probably tired.”

“I want to,” Tommy said, adding sultrily, “and I’ve got a lot of energy left.”

Sam hummed. “Good, ‘cause I was jealous. I want to break in a room with you too.”

Tommy laughed. “Okay, then give me a minute. Quick shower.”

“Don’t,” Sam said, pulling Tommy back by the hand when Tommy turned toward the shower.

Tommy bit his lip. “We weren’t safe again, Sam. I’m sorry. It just… happened. I didn’t think. I’m so stupid, I—”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” Sam said, kissing Tommy gently on the mouth.

“It’s not. I know that I trust him but you don’t.” Tommy kissed Sam back, greedily, his hands spreading over Sam’s broad chest. “I mean, it’s like you’re sleeping with him, too, then, and you don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Sam said, his voice strained, and Tommy felt Sam’s heart beat a strange, arrhythmic pattern in his chest. “I trust him. We talked the other night when you were asleep. It’s okay.”

“You trust him.” The words sank like stones inside him, making Tommy feel heavy and full.

“I do,” Sam said, kissing his mouth again.

Tommy leaned his head back, letting Sam trail his mouth down over his throat, kissing and licking every inch. “But he’s all over me. Sam, he’s inside me.”

Sam pulled him closer and made a noise that was as much a whimper as a moan.

“Jesus. You like that?” Tommy asked, curious. He pulled at Sam’s hair, bringing his head back so that he could see his eyes. He asked more questions, needing to know more, feeling like he was skirting close to a line where fantasy and taboo meet. “Want to fill me up like he did? Spread me apart and make me scream?”

Sam’s answer was another moan, and a hard suck where not even an hour ago, Adam had made a bruise on his skin.

Fuck, that was good. Always so good when Sam got aggressive.

Tommy let himself go limp in Sam’s arms, laughing breathlessly while he prodded Sam on. “Want to see him on me? Smell him?”

Tommy pulled back, looking into Sam’s eyes. They’d gone all glassy, his pupils blown wide. Sam slid his hands down Tommy’s back and to his ass, pushing, grinding them into each other.

“Yeah,” Tommy urged. “Come on, Sam. Fuck him out of me.”

Sam growled something, perhaps, “Not in the fucking bathroom,” but maybe that was just Tommy’s imagination, then he picked Tommy up with a slightly more decipherable mumble of, “Kitchen. Now.”

They didn’t make it to the kitchen. Somewhere in the hallway they stumbled and fell, clothes were discarded, and Sam nearly fucked Tommy through the wood floor.

When Sam collapsed on top of him, Tommy smiled, amused to be holding him the same way he’d held Adam earlier, for the same reasons.

Sam looked up at him, breathing heavily still, sweat streaking his dark hair black. “Fuck, you really smell like him.”

Tommy could smell it, too. Not just Adam’s cologne, but Adam’s sweat, his spit, his come. He laughed, feeling a little thrill, like he’s just gotten away with something. “And apparently you like that now. What is it, the competition?”

“What?” Sam asked, picking his head up.

“Was it the competition that got you all hot and bothered?” Tommy specified, squinting at Sam.

“Oh. Yeah. You know. The challenge,” Sam said, and gave Tommy a weird smile. Then he pushed himself up, off of Tommy, and groaned. “Fuck. The wood floors inside aren’t any better.”

Tommy glanced down at Sam’s knees and started to giggle. “Come on. Thank fuck you got all those bandages.”

By the time Adam got back with the rest of their necessities, Sam was all bandaged up and they’d spread out the blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. They helped Adam haul in the pizza, firewood, and the rest and set to work getting the candles lit and the fire going before they ate. The sun was setting, and in mere minutes they’d be in the darkness.

“Let me,” Sam said as Adam was staring blankly at the wood in the fireplace. Sam’s inner Boy Scout went to work, using a paper plate or two for kindling and getting the logs to catch fire. Tommy made his way around the room, encircling them with what had to have been hundreds of candles that Adam bought.

Adam sat at the edge of the fireplace, watching both of them work. Tommy heard him say, in a hushed voice, “Thanks for earlier, Sam.”

“You too,” Sam answered. Then he added, “By the way, the floor in the hallway isn’t much softer than the deck.”

Adam’s light chuckle filled the room and made Tommy’s heart skip a beat. “Noted. We’re going to have to invest in a lot of rugs.”

“ _Soft_ rugs,” Sam said.

Tommy turned to them, pretending not to have heard. “Ready for food? I’m starving.”

Adam stood. “I recommend starting with the ice cream. Since we have no fridge, it’s the only logical thing to do.”

“Of course. Logical,” Sam agreed. “And it goes well with champagne.”

They brought in all the food, a bottle of bubbly, and the necessary utensils. Adam popped open the champagne and poured generously into the plastic Dixie cups Sam had bought from Target.

Adam raised his glass. “To home.”

Sam raised his. “To family.”

Tommy raised his last. “To us.”

They clinked plastic against plastic and drank deep.

Hours later the gallon of ice cream was gone, and the pizza, and most of the candles had burned down to nothing. The fireplace had died down as well, leaving just a pile of crackling orange embers that emitted a slow, glorious heat. Three bottles of champagne had also disappeared over conversations about a range of subjects, from their first kiss (“Fuck, I mean, the Catholic school girl thing _still_ does it for me,” Tommy said.) to their most embarrassing moment (“Oh come on,” Adam said. “I fucking ninja rolled in front of millions of people. Why are you asking me this?”) to the strangest thing they’d ever been asked to do in bed (Sam opened his mouth but Tommy clamped a hand over it, hissing, “You swore you’d never tell, fucker.”).

Adam busted up. “Oh come on. You have to tell me now.”

Tommy was thankful that the dim light probably made his red face less obvious. “Let’s just say that it didn’t work and leave it at that.”

Sam winked at Adam. “Tell ya later.”

Adam snorted. “Shit, I’m drunk. How much did we have?”

Sam lay back against a pillow. He was shirtless, as they all were, and Tommy let his eyes wander lazily over Sam’s abs, and the sexy trail of dark hair from his bellybutton to his jeans.

“There are three empty bottles. And there are three of us. So take three, divide by three…carry the one…. Yes, we’ve all had a bottle to ourselves,” Sam said and giggled at himself.

“Only one? I’m out of shape,” Adam said, and Tommy looked over at him. He was smiling, a little lopsidedly in his tipsiness, and his eyes were on Sam, too. On his abs.

Tommy felt something within him twitch, something unwelcome and kind of foreign, and he stretched his arms out, flexing them as he yawned. A little thrill of triumph went through him as Adam’s gaze focused on his horror sleeve, and he reached out and traced over Freddy Krueger.

“Love you,” Adam murmured, and kissed up Tommy’s shoulder to his neck, then to his cheek.

“Oh, it’s that part of the night, huh?” Tommy teased. “Drunky McDrunkerson starts talking love and getting all romantic.”

Sam hummed a little, then sat up. “I’ll go. So many empty rooms in this place.”

“No,” Tommy said, separating himself from Adam a little. “No one’s going anywhere tonight. We’re all staying here, right here, together, in our new house.”

Tommy watched as Sam and Adam exchanged another look, this time one of apprehension.

“None of that. Seriously. I want you both here. Don’t make me choose, not tonight. We’re just going to sleep, nothing more, and I want to sleep next to both of you.” Tommy lay down between them. “See? You don’t even have to look at each other if you don’t want.”

Adam looked at Sam, shrugging. “It’s not like we haven’t given him everything else he’s wanted today.”

Sam laughed, and then lay down next to Tommy. “Spoiled brat,” he murmured affectionately.

Tommy rolled over, facing Sam, and reached down to unbutton his jeans. Sam’s eyes snapped up to meet Tommy’s, and his hands closed over Tommy’s wrists.

“You can’t sleep in jeans,” Tommy said, explaining. “Way too uncomfortable.”

Sam let go of Tommy’s wrists and gave him a slight nod, and Tommy unzipped Sam’s jeans and slid them off of his legs.

“So gorgeous,” Tommy said, and even in the dim light of the fire he could see that Sam was flushing all over. He leaned over Sam and kissed him before pulling a blanket up over him. Then he turned to Adam.

Adam looked away, and Tommy felt that strange, unwelcome twitch again, knowing that Adam had been watching Sam.

“You too,” he said, and slid Adam’s jeans off of him, the same way he’d done to Sam, then he took off his own.

They settled into the nest of blankets they’d made, Sam and Adam both keeping a safe distance from him, and therefore each other.

Tommy blew out a breath, disappointed. “Can’t we get a little closer?” he asked.

Both Sam and Adam propped themselves up on an elbow, looking at him.

“Tommy,” Sam said in his best Don’t-Push-It voice.

“What?” Tommy said, pouting. Then he reached over and ran his fingers along Sam’s jaw before pulling him down into a kiss. Sam kissed him deeply, slow but with lots of tongue, the way he usually did when they were alone and he’d like more.

Then Sam pulled away, eyes at half mast, and whispered, “Goodnight, Tommy,” before lying on his back and drawing Tommy close, snug up against his side.

Tommy hummed and then turned his body, angling himself away from Sam but not moving away in the slightest, and Adam bent down to kiss him, kissing him as deeply as Sam had. Tommy sighed as Adam pulled away and whispered goodnight, and he turned back towards Sam, curling his body around Sam’s. Adam curled around him, making tight spoons of all of them. Both Adam’s and Sam’s hands were on him, holding him, and Tommy let the moment just breathe, feeling more complete than he had in months, maybe years.

Tommy woke to the early morning sun coming in through all the windows of the house, unused to all the bright, natural light.

His head was on Sam’s chest, and Adam was still curled around him, but they’d shifted slightly during the night. Their hands weren’t on him anymore. Instead, Adam’s hand rested on Sam’s stomach, open and spread, as if trying to touch as much skin as possible. Sam’s arm was no longer around his shoulders but draped behind his head, Sam’s fingers tangled in Adam’s hair like they’d been tangled so many times in Tommy’s.

Tommy felt that twitch again, only now he could give it a name: jealousy. He quickly justified it to himself – Adam and Sam were both so attractive, after all, and so talented and interesting, of course he was jealous of anyone who came within three feet of them, even each other – but just as quickly pushed the feeling aside. He was being paranoid. They both loved _him_ , so much that they’d given up some of their own wishes to make a home for him, the way he wanted. And it was for the best that they get along.

Even still, (and he wasn’t exactly proud of it), Tommy took Adam’s hand and moved it from Sam’s stomach to his own. Sam must have noticed the change because his eyes fluttered open and he smiled sweetly at Tommy before stretching a little. Then, as he moved and began to realize where his hand was, his eyes grew wide.

Sam’s fingers combed through Tommy’s hair, then, where they belonged, and he kissed Tommy’s mouth – a kiss that was equal parts, “I love you” and “I’m sorry.”

Adam’s hold on Tommy tightened, and Tommy tightened his on Sam, and Tommy sighed with relief.

Complete again, he fell back asleep.


	8. Unexpected Harmony

Adam rubbed at his eyes and made his way into the kitchen, where Sam was already up and eating breakfast at the small table in their breakfast nook.

They had a breakfast nook. It was like they were real grownups now.

Sam grinned when Adam walked in, lowering the newspaper he was reading. “Coffee’s on. Can I make you something?”

Adam eyed Sam’s bowl of oatmeal and dried cranberries. “We have oatmeal?”

Sam put the paper aside, grinning wider. “Sit. I’ll get it.”

“You’re going to spoil me as bad as Tommy,” Adam said, but sat down anyway after helping himself to the coffee.

“Hey, I’m just glad to have someone to cook for that actually enjoys healthy eating.”

Adam hummed happily, sipping the coffee. He’d gotten used to Sam’s blend, which was strong and bold to the point of being bitter at times, but it would wake anyone the hell up. And like Sam, he took it black.

Truthfully, Adam had gotten used to a lot of things. They’d been in their new house for only a few weeks, but the early breakfasts had become a routine. While Tommy was still fast asleep, in whatever bed he chose the night before, Sam and Adam would rise with the sun and spend a few minutes on a leisurely meal before Sam went off to write, and Adam went off to sing or compose. Adam was now used to Sam making his breakfast, used to their jovial, half-asleep conversation, used to separating the newspapers so that Sam could read the book reviews and Adam the music reviews, used to their tentative planning of the day so that they could somehow coordinate a time for dinner, used to Sam talking to himself as he cooked and cleaned and daydreamed about his latest novel.

Adam took out the arts and leisure sections of the papers and shoved the rest back toward Sam’s seat. “So dinner downtown tonight, after my session?”

“Should be able to,” Sam said, sprinkling dried cranberries on top of steaming oatmeal. “My book goes to press tomorrow, so barring a publishing emergency, I’m free tonight. How much do you have left?”

“Two songs. Can you believe it?” Adam sighed. “Thank goodness, too. The label is getting slightly impatient.”

Yes, the recording sessions had been kind of slow, but considering the fact that he’d changed his concept in the middle, and started a somewhat strange relationship and moved during the process, it was some kind of record timing. He and the band had been working their asses off to get the songs polished and recorded.

Sam sat down next to him, placing his breakfast right in front of him. “Did you choose the album photography yet?”

“Well, I have to narrow down the shots still and do the layout, but I know which set I’m using.”

Sam nodded, and lifted a spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth, but there was something behind his eyes that he wasn’t letting out.

“What?” Adam asked. “I see the wheels of that big brain of yours turning. Spit it out.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m not a musician, and I’m certainly not you, so my opinion is pretty useless.”

“But you have one,” Adam said, amused. “Tell me.”

Sam set down his spoon. “I was looking at the pictures after you and Tommy went to bed last night. I don’t think you should give up the phoenix idea, Adam. That photoset is the better set but more than that, it’s the same meaning and yet not so literal. Your fans will get it without being told. They may even understand that it’s Tommy who helped you rise from the ashes again. But even still, it’s more open to interpretation.”

Adam squinted at Sam, and then he stood, his spoon clanging against the bowl flatly. He grabbed the photo album off the dining room table and brought it back to the breakfast nook, opening it so that he and Sam could both see it.

After a moment, Adam spoke. “You’re right. The phoenix set is the better set. It’s got the same emotions but a lot more drama. And I look better,” Adam added with a laugh.

“You look great in those,” Sam said, voice soft and sincere. He met Adam’s eyes for only a second before turning back to the photos, skin flushed.

Adam smiled to himself and turned a page in the album so that he could see his favorite, the one of him covered in ash. As the page flipped, though, a sheet of notebook paper fell out of the album and drifted to the floor.

Adam leaned over to pick it up and recognized Sam’s handwriting immediately. “What’s this?”

Sam shrugged. “Just something I wrote when I was looking at these last night.”

Adam turned the paper and read Sam’s words. After only the first few sentences, Adam looked back up at him, astounded. “You wrote the story.”

“Of you and Tommy, yeah. I mean, I took your lyrics and just kind of… filled in the gaps, you know? So it’s kind of a blend of your words and mine but I think I kept your voice.” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “It’s crap. I just had to write something when I saw those.”

“You know my lyrics?” Adam asked, reading more of Sam’s story. Indeed, his own words were woven into the prose, and though it was clearly Sam’s writing and not his, it felt as though Sam was in his head, writing down his very thoughts.

“Of course,” Sam said, laughing a little. “You sing all the time. When you’re cleaning up after dinner, while you’re getting ready, when you’re in the shower. It’s hard not to memorize them.”

Adam was somehow flattered by that, that Sam not only noticed his singing habit, but had actually paid enough attention to know the words. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it. That must be annoying.”

“I love your voice,” Sam said. “Anyway, the phoenix thing…I wouldn’t give that up.”

Adam considered that, a little inkling inside him agreeing with Sam. “Do you think I could use this? Your story? I mean, would you be willing to kind of condense this, have a couple of lines for each page of the album booklet?”

“Like a picture book or something?”

“Yeah, just, you know, for adults.”

“Sure. But are you sure? I mean, that’s a lot of me in an album meant for you and Tommy.”

“And that’s fitting, don’t you think?” Adam said, and Sam flushed again. “I’ll run it by my people. Will your agent be cool with it?”

“She’ll love it,” Sam said, and then he produced a pencil from out of nowhere and started to mark all over his story, crossing out some things and circling others. “Will you use the shot of the flames in your eyes?” he asked, and Adam nodded. “It would look great behind the disc, don’t you think?”

Adam sat back, studying Sam. “You have a vision. Write it as you see it, and we can accommodate it in the layout.”

“But this is your—”

“I trust you.” Adam spread his hand over Sam’s. “You’re an excellent writer. Plus you’re going off my excellent lyrics. It can’t be bad.” Adam laughed and Sam shook his head at him. Then Adam quieted for a moment, thinking. “Do you do any other kind of writing besides fiction?”

“Sure,” Sam said, brows knitting together. “I studied everything in college. Formal, informal, journalism, poetry. Why? Want me to write up press stuff?”

Adam shook his head. “I feel like that’s a waste of your talent. But what if you did some sort of…I don’t know, documentary type thing? Just, you know, writing.”

“You want me to write an exposé on the real Adam Lambert?” Sam asked, his tongue solidly in his cheek.

Adam snorted. “Nah. Although I’m sure people will be dying to know about this little living arrangement when that comes out. I meant like, on the road. Covering what touring is like, the whole band, that kind of thing.”

“Sure. A book or a blog?”

“What would you prefer?”

Sam smiled. “A book. We could do so much with a book.”

“Great. I’ll talk to my people about that, too,” Adam said. “So this means you’ll go on tour with us.”

Sam made a mark on his story, smiling to himself. “I wondered how you’d pull me in.”

“It’s perfect, right? This way you’d have to be there for every second of it. And you’d have to be on my bus, most importantly.”

Sam didn’t pick his head up, but Adam watched as his smile deepened. “Thank you. I’d be nuts without Tommy for that long.”

“He’d miss you,” Adam said, and then leaned close to Sam. “And I’d miss you, too.”

Sam closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, and panic gripped Adam. Had that been the wrong thing to say?

But then Sam opened his eyes again and smiled at him, whispering, “I’d miss you, too.”

“Kind of crazy, isn’t it? I never would have imagined you as a friend. Or that good of a cook.”

Sam laughed. “So would you miss me or my cooking more?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that question.”

Sam responded to that by sticking his tongue out at Adam, and bumping Adam’s shoulder with his own for good measure. “You’d best enjoy it now. There’s no way I’m cooking on the tour.” He looked back down at the pictures. “I’ll have something for you by the end of the day on this, if you need to tell your people that. And if you don’t like any of it, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

“I think I’m going to love it,” Adam said. He pulled his oatmeal back to him and Sam began to work on the story again, but neither of them moved away. So they spent the rest of breakfast in comfortable silence, leaning close together, Adam reading Sam’s words as he scribbled them down.

*

Adam threw his car keys down in the little wooden bowl on the table in the foyer. A breeze swept through the hallway, filling the rooms with the scent of earth and leaves and wood, and Adam smiled.

It was the warmest day they’d had so far this spring, and it appeared Sam was taking advantage. Every window and door in the place had been thrown wide open. Their newly bought curtains floated with each breeze and the house felt even more airy and light than usual.

“Sam?” Adam called out. Sure, Sam had a beautiful office now, one with a spectacular view of the hills, but that didn’t mean he could stay put in it while writing. Especially on a day like today.

“By the pool!”

Adam made his way outside. Sam was on one of their lounge chairs, laptop balanced on his legs, and he wore nothing but an old pair of cargo shorts and his reading glasses.

Adam swallowed.

“Tommy’s not with you?”

Adam sat on the lounger next to Sam’s and tried not to stare too much at his bare skin. “No. I’ve been finishing my vocals so quickly, the band has a lot to do to catch up. If you need a car, you can have mine.”

“Don’t need it,” Sam said. He looked up from the computer for the first time, taking off his glasses. “Flying through, huh?”

Adam shrugged. “It’s easy to sing about love when you’re in it.”

As Adam spoke those words, Sam’s whole face softened, his smile becoming dreamier, his eyes radiating warmth.

Adam looked away. “I guess we should open the pool.”

“I called about it today. They said they could be out next week.”

“Good,” Adam said. Normal, day-to-day talk was good. That could keep his mind off of how tight Sam’s stomach was.

“So I guess we’ll have dinner in the city another night?” Sam asked, and Adam nodded.

“Maybe we can save it for the weekend. Tommy’s probably going to be late tonight.”

“Okay. We may be eating mac and cheese and chardonnay tonight, though. I think that’s all we have in the kitchen.” Sam bit the end of his glasses, studying Adam. Adam started to feel warm under his gaze, and it had nothing to do with the afternoon sun on his face.

“What?” he finally asked, and Sam grinned, glasses still in his mouth.

“I finished the album booklet.”

“Really? Already?”

Sam gave him a sheepish look. “It’s all I worked on today.” He looked back to his computer, keeping his eyes focused on the screen. “After you left it was like those pictures just wouldn’t let me go. My muse gave me no other choice.”

“Can I see?” Adam asked, anxious.

In answer, Sam swung his feet to the side of the lounger, making enough room that they could sit side by side. Adam sat next to him, sinking into the soft cushion, his thigh touching Sam’s thigh. Sam scooted the computer so that it was on Adam’s knee as well, and then leaned in close so they could both see the screen.

The soft touch of his curls to Adam’s face made Adam go still, savoring the slight tickle and the faint scent of patchouli.

“Adam?”

“Hmnn?” Adam winced at himself and then made himself concentrate on the task at hand, looking at the laptop’s screen.

He drew in a breath in surprise. It wasn’t just words on Sam’s screen, black and white like a book, it was an image. The one of himself, standing amidst flames. Above his raised arms, in a font that seemed to be made of the flames as well, was the word RETURN. At the bottom, in simple old-fashioned script font, was his name.

“The album cover. You did the album cover?”

Sam fidgeted. “It’s just what I was thinking, you know, what popped into my head. I was just playing around. I, um… I called Lee. Hope you don’t mind, but he saved me a lot of scanning time by emailing the images to me, so I kind of played around with the order and your lyrics and everything and…”

Sam trailed off, and Adam turned the laptop so that he could see the screen better, and started going through all of the images.

The first few pages were images of him wrapped in the flames, dancing within them, and Sam’s words, combined with his own lyrics, appeared to be part of the picture themselves. The script shadowed the flames in dark lettering, a contrast to the bright orange and yellow but a living part of it as well, speaking of fire and passion and feeling alive.

Adam kept flipping through the images, barely breathing, too awed and too stunned for his lungs to work properly.

Then came the pictures in ash. Sam had taken Adam’s favorite, his face blackened, his eyes like sapphires amongst the grit, and made it the middle spread. With that, Sam had done something incredible. He had taken only one word from Adam’s song, Too Late: alone. This word was the shape of the ash, over and over again, all around his face, dark enough that it almost blended in completely with the black and gray around it, so subtle that the eye had to look for it.

“Sam…”

“You like it?”

“That’s incredible,” Adam breathed.

“I didn’t think it needed any more than that one word, you know?”

“I totally agree.”

And even though he wasn’t quite done staring at it, Adam scrolled to the next page, where the rebirth began. Just a small flame, tiny orange embers, burning within the wreckage. Sam’s words seemed to move along the edges of the ash, as if climbing their way out of it, describing how Tommy’s return to him was healing him, giving him strength.

Then finally, the last few pages, Adam taking flight again, lifted off the ground, rising through the flames. Sam’s words wrapped around the flames, coiling around Adam’s own lyrics, passion and heat and triumph.

Adam drew his eyes away from the screen. Sam was looking at him, expectant, but Adam had no idea what to say to him. What words would possibly suffice?

“Sam, this is amazing.”

“Well, if you want to change anything, please do. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

Adam continued to stare at him, and Sam fidgeted slightly. “You worked all day on this.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not very fast with Photoshop. Don’t really know what I’m doing, honestly.”

“You called Lee.”

“I hope that wasn’t overstepping or something, it just saved me time.”

“You put all of my album art together, formatted it, wrote your own words to narrate it, wove it into my song lyrics…”

Sam’s olive skin brightened to tomato red. “Yeah.”

Adam shook his head dazedly. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand it.”

“What is there to understand?”

“Why you would do this for me,” Adam explained.

Sam blinked, his eyes glossing ever. Then he whispered, edgy but sweet, “You really don’t know?”

But Adam knew. He knew how he’d been feeling himself for the last few months. He knew how his gaze lingered a little too long on Sam, how his hands always seemed to want to wander over Sam’s skin, how his day was always a little brighter when he heard Sam’s laugh, how he counted down the minutes until he saw Sam again, just as he always had with Tommy.

He knew. And he saw that same knowledge mirrored back in Sam’s eyes.

He may have cursed, or maybe it was just a swift prayer of gratitude for the universe, but a word fell from his lips and then those lips were on Sam’s, hungry and violent and powerful enough that Sam opened to him immediately, welcoming him in.

Adam let his hands slide into Sam’s hair, pulling it, pulling him closer, and Sam cried out something. It tasted like his name, and Adam swallowed it down until he could taste nothing but Sam. Sam’s mouth was smoky and sweet like cinnamon, as though the album pictures had flavored him, and he kissed like…

He kissed like Tommy, giving and naughty and slightly needy. But Sam had a twist of something extra. Something more dominant. Something that he was holding back, but if loosened could not be contained.

Then Sam’s hands were spread flat against Adam’s chest, pushing him back.

Adam released him, and they both stared at each other, panting. Sam’s mouth, Adam noted with pride, was a tad swollen.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. Jesus _fuck_ , you should,” Sam said, drawing in hiccupping breaths. “But I need to save this.”

Adam watched, amused and bouncing with anxiousness, as Sam took the laptop, saved the album booklet file, and gingerly set it aside.

“Now,” Sam said, still breathless, “let’s do that again.”

Sam wrapped his fingers around the back of Adam’s neck and pulled until they were both lying on the lounger, his legs smoothly wrapping around Adam’s.

Adam let Sam surround him, surround all of him. His hot, hard body curling around his skin, flexing under his hands; the taste of cinnamon and smoke in his mouth; the smell of patchouli and soap in his nose, the recitative of deep, mellow sighs and moans in his ear.

Sam was everything he’d imagined, and Christ, had he been imagining lately. He’d figured Sam would be dominant but not overly aggressive, that his broadness and strength would be a little foreign-feeling in Adam’s arms, he’d even imagined how that body would stretch against his, giving to him but not giving in, and he’d been so right.

Not that he’d had to imagine much. He’d seen it sometimes when Sam and Tommy didn’t know he was looking.

 _Tommy._

Adam pulled away abruptly, his lips leaving Sam’s with a smack. “Shit. Tommy.”

Sam made a frustrated noise. “Tommy what?”

“Are we cheating on Tommy?”

Slowly, very slowly, Sam’s eyes focused on Adam’s face. “Cheating? How could we be cheating?”

That was a good question. Kissing Sam wasn’t exactly wrong feeling, or unnatural. “I don’t know. Maybe cheating is a strong word. But, I mean, shouldn’t we let him know about it?”

Sam sat up, again slowly, and Adam couldn’t help but feel a little pride that Sam seemed as drugged from the kissing as he did. Adam, though, continued to keep physical contact, his hands on Sam’s knees, holding tight.

“Jesus. I didn’t even think about it. Didn’t even occur to me…”

“Of course not,” Adam said. “I mean, we’re in a relationship already, right? In this weird way. It was just sort of…”

“The next step.” Sam’s smile was different than any smile Adam had ever seen him give before – lazy and a little guilty. “I feel like we’ve been dating for months.”

Adam watched the smile devolve into little giggles.

If this was Sam in sex mode, this was going to be really fun.

“Is it wrong if we kiss again? I mean, we already have…” Sam said, pawing at Adam’s chest.

Adam made a frustrated, if not slightly disapproving sound. “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission?”

Sam’s smile faded a bit. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m a horrible person.”

“No you’re not. It was just…”

“Good.”

Adam chuckled. “Really good.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Take cold showers and stay a half mile apart?”

It was Sam’s turn to laugh. “I mean about Tommy. What do we tell him?”

Adam considered. “I guess we tell him we made out like teenagers and we’re sorry?”

“Is that all?”

Adam took in the hopeful look on Sam’s face and melted a little. “No. That’s not all. There’s a lot more, isn’t there?”

Sam nodded. “I suppose we need to address the state of the union.”

“Yes.” Adam sighed. “Okay. Let’s go somewhere neutral, maybe somewhere that doesn’t have a lot of soft, comfortable surfaces, and discuss this. In a few minutes. I’m really considering that cold shower.”

Sam reached out, cupping Adam’s jaw in his palm. “Adam, I—”

Sam never got to finish his thought, because Adam’s mouth closed over his and they sank into each other, wrapped up in each other’s arms as much as the silly pool lounger would allow.

“I guess I decided we should kiss again,” Adam said, touching his forehead to Sam’s. Sam, who hadn’t let go, slid his hand to the side of Adam’s neck.

“I’m never going to get enough of that,” Sam whispered. “If Tommy’s okay with it, I mean.”

“Of course he’ll be okay with it. How could he not be?”

Sam drew back, his expression worried. “I hope you’re right. Go shower. I’m going to start dinner. And maybe drink all of that chardonnay.” Sam paused. “On second thought, loosening my inhibitions may not be such a great idea.”

Adam laughed. “Yeah. Let’s keep sober tonight.”

The shower, Adam soon realized, could never be cold or long enough to chill the fever that had been gathering strength in his body for months. Especially not after kissing Sam like that. So he abandoned the shower after only a menial rinse and redressed.

In the kitchen, Sam was pulling out eggs and frozen vegetables. He looked up as Adam came in, smiling shyly. “Quiche. I can make a quiche.”

“Of course, Martha. Sure. Just whip up a simple quiche.”

“Hey, my cooking is why you love me, right?” Sam froze. “I mean, like. Or…whatever it is that we are.”

Adam went to him, removing the cold bags of veggies and the carton of eggs from his hands and setting them aside. He took Sam’s hands in his own. “I don’t know yet, but I have a feeling that whatever it is, it could be really good.”

“Really good,” Sam agreed. “I want to find out. Adam, I think I need to find out.”

The words were so like Tommy’s, what seemed like ages ago on the beach. He swallowed thickly. “I think Tommy will understand that.”

He gathered Sam into his arms, and standing like this, it was even more obvious than before how different Sam was from Tommy, or from any of the other men he’d ever been attracted to. They were nearly the same height, nearly the same build. Instead of feeling like the protector he just felt protected himself.

“How long?”

“How long have I felt this way?” Sam asked. Adam nodded, so Sam shrugged, settling himself into Adam’s arms. “Well, I wanted you before I liked you, that’s for sure.”

Adam chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. That first night I saw you, with you dancing all hot and sweaty? Fuck, I hated you. But I could have thrown you down right there on that dance floor.”

“Yeah, and then I stopped hating you.” Sam once more slid his hands up to Adam’s neck, a move that Adam started to recognize as Sam’s trademark move. “Although, I admit that I hated that I’d stopped hating you for a while.”

“Me too,” Adam agreed. “I saw how good you were for him. Just how good you were, period. Smart, level-headed, chill, strong…”

“And you were everything I wanted to be. Outspoken, impulsive, in control, but so compassionate, too. And so good for him.”

Adam threaded his fingers through Sam’s curls – another move that would soon get a trademark. It was like those curls were magnets, and his hands made of metal. “When I started seeing you through his eyes, I was a goner.”

Sam leaned into his touch, sighing. “Exactly. Christ, we’re cheesy.”

“Of course. We write pop music and romance novels. What did you expect?”

“I write literature, thank you very much.”

Adam snorted. “Sorry. Literature.”

Sam pulled back, but only far enough so that he could easily press his mouth to Adam’s, and then they were kissing again, and though it was as passionate as before, it wasn’t nearly as urgent. When they pulled away they were both smiling.

“No really. Last time,” Sam said, then added, “Am I crazy, or does this feel right?”

“Really right,” Adam agreed. “I totally understand what Tommy’s been talking about. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with me and him, but you…”

Sam poked Adam in the chest, smirking at him. “Gonna say I complete you?”

“Jackass.” Adam laughed. “Yes, I was. We complete this, don’t you think? It makes the three of us a little more balanced. It’s logical, isn’t it? I mean, aren’t triangles the most stable of all shapes or something? Geometrically speaking?”

Sam blinked.

“Okay, well, whatever. Neither of us studied architecture. But that’s good to tell Tommy, right? That the two of us together, too, will make us all stronger.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. That’s good. Got any more like that?”

Adam shrugged. “Other than telling him that we can’t keep our hands off each other and hoping for the best? No.”

“Adam,” Sam said, suddenly distraught, “what if he says no?”

“He can’t say no. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Sam closed his eyes. “It’s Tommy. He can. And he knows we don’t want to lose him.”

“I can’t lose him.”

“Neither can I.”

Adam bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Sam. I really, really like you, and I need to see where this goes with you, but if Tommy says no…”

Sam lifted a hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I know exactly where you’re coming from. We said long ago we wouldn’t lose him. That hasn’t changed. I just don’t want to lose you now, either.” Sam blew out a breath. “Wow. Words I never thought I’d say…”

Adam searched for Sam’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He tried to smile, but the mood had changed too much. Melancholy was in the air. “It’ll be okay. Tommy might even be happy about it.”

“He might,” Sam said, but didn’t look at all convinced. Then he moved closer, his body flattening against Adam’s. “But just in case he isn’t, kiss me again. It might be wrong, but if he says no, I want to be able to say we at least had this.”

Adam wanted it so bad he could taste it, remarkably like cinnamon in his mouth, but he hesitated. “Just kissing.”

“Just kissing. And then we can make dinner. And not have wine.” Sam studied Adam’s face, and his smile fell. “We don’t have to. Of course we shouldn’t. I feel foolish for even—”

Adam’s mouth crashed over Sam’s, surprising the hell out of Sam so much that he stumbled backwards into the counter, but Adam didn’t stop, following him in hot pursuit. Their teeth scraped against each other, against each other’s lips, grazing each other’s tongues. One of them, or maybe both, cursed.

Adam pressed himself into Sam, and fuck, he was hard. Sam was, too. He could feel the heavy hardness of Sam’s cock against his thigh, and wanted nothing more than to feel it without the barrier of clothes between them. Before he realized what he was doing, Adam had slid his hand between them and had flattened his hand against Sam’s cock, rubbing slowly.

Sam moaned at the pressure and leaned his head back, letting Adam nip down his neck, bucking his hips forward so that Adam could touch him more.

“Fuck,” Adam breathed against Sam’s neck, and Sam mumbled something in agreement.

Then, he pulled away, a hand gently pushing on Adam’s chest. “Shit.”

“Making out like teenagers again. Sorry.”

“God, I want you.”

Adam groaned. It was too much – Sam’s deep voice, all husky, saying those words while his lips were all swollen and his olive eyes looked at him so intensely. “Sam. Jesus.”

“Right. Dinner. No wine.”

“Right,” Adam agreed, and they started to gather the ingredients. It was when Sam’s hand traced his backbone from top to bottom that Adam finally added, “You know, if I didn’t think that this would really work between us, I wouldn’t have kissed you. I mean, yeah, that kiss was kind of impulsive, but I can’t say I haven’t thought this through.”

“Me too,” Sam said, and hugged Adam from behind, just briefly. “So let’s tell him, and give this the chance it deserves, okay?”

And so they started to cook, together, as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time when Tommy would be home.

*

Tommy opened the door and threw his keys in the bowl, stopping in the entryway to roll his head from side to side. Christ, every muscle in his body ached, but especially his hands. He hadn’t played that long, or that hard, in a while.

He was about to call out to his boyfriends when he heard them laughing. He followed the sound to the kitchen, where Sam was cutting into something that looked like a yellow pie and Adam was ohhing and ahhing over the smell of cheese and eggs. Adam, Tommy noticed, had his hand on the small of Sam’s back as they both leaned over the food, and when Tommy stepped into the room, Adam let his hand fall guiltily.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Didn’t hear you come in. Hungry?”

“Starving,” Tommy said. He moved past them to grab a beer out of the fridge. “And in pain. Why do you have to write such hard music?”

Adam leaned against the counter, shrugging. “Because making it easy music would be Karma all over again?”

Tommy twisted the cap off a Heineken and drank deep. “Well, we’re done with everything except the mixing. Came up with a sort of funk spin on Beg, Steal, and Borrow. Hope you like it.”

Adam cocked a brow. “That’s not on the album.”

“Oh, well, it’s recorded anyway. Bonus track?”

Adam sighed, and Tommy knew someone at the record company was going to get an earful later.

“What the hell is that, anyway?” Tommy asked, and Sam licked the knife he’d been using.

“Quiche.”

“Gesundheit.”

Sam chuckled. “That’s what it’s called. Quiche. It’s the kind of baby an omelet and a pie would have. Try some.”

Sam cut off a sliver of his own and held it to Tommy’s mouth, who gave him a dubious look before biting into it. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Give me like half of that thing. I’m famished.”

Tommy sat down at the table while Adam and Sam got everything ready. He watched them, sipping his beer and hoping like hell it would numb his tired muscles a little. But as Adam and Sam moved about, he started to notice something.

They’d been a little touchy-feely lately, especially after the day he’d left, and he’d chalked it up to Adam’s nature affecting Sam. Everything had always been warm and affectionate, but friendly. But now, they seemed almost protective of each other, and worse, it was like they couldn’t stop touching each other. If Adam didn’t have a hand on Sam’s back or shoulder, then Sam was touching his arm, or playfully poking him in the chest.

But that’s not what really bothered Tommy. What really bothered Tommy was how _aware_ they seemed to be of each other’s bodies. Always turned towards each other, always leaning in, always near.

“Want another?”

Tommy looked up. Adam was grinning down at him, his head angled towards Tommy almost empty beer. “I don’t know.”

“You should have another,” Adam said, and one appeared in front of him, courtesy of Sam. Then everyone sat down, quiche served.

Tommy dug in, not even tasting the food, just so hungry that he was gobbling. It wasn’t until he’d finished one slice of the quiche that he noticed Adam and Sam were watching him.

“Sorry. I know. Manners and shit.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said, laying a hand on top of Tommy’s. “We just… we have something we want to talk to you about, Tommy.”

Tommy put his fork down and sat back in his chair. He opened the other beer, figuring he might really need it. “What’s wrong? Are we going to have to move again or something?”

“No. Everything’s fine, really,” Adam said. He looked to Sam, and they communicated something with their eyes. “It’s a good thing. We think.”

Tommy felt irritation like an itch between his shoulder blades. They were always doing this anymore. Having these little silent conversations right in front of him as if they spoke a different language than he did. “Okay. What?”

Both Adam and Sam shifted, leaning forward. It was Sam who spoke first.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that Adam and I are friends now, something that kind of surprised both of us. Maybe even you.” Sam looked at him for a response, but Tommy only shrugged, so he looked to Adam instead.

Adam began to talk then. “It’s nice, you know? Living with each other has been…nice.”

Sam smiled at Adam, adding, “Really nice.”

And as Adam smiled back, it began to settle on Tommy just what they might be getting at – just what it was, exactly, that he saw in their eyes when they looked at each other.

 _Oh god…_

“I guess what we’re trying to say is that…” Sam paused, thinking. “I see why you like Adam so much. And, well, I like him, too. A lot. And he likes me.”

Adam reached out and folded his hand over Sam’s on the table – Jesus fuck – then Adam turned to him. “We promised you we’d be yours forever, Tommy, but I guess what we want to know is, would you mind if we were each other’s, too?”

Cold. Tommy felt cold. All cold. Like a cloud of freezing mist had enveloped him, head to toe. He spoke at barely a whisper, his voice like ice. “You want to be together.”

“Yes,” Sam said. “We’d like your permission to try.”

Adam jumped in. “It would be good for us, Tommy. For all of us. The three of us being in love with each other, it would balance everything out, you know?”

“In love with each other,” Tommy repeated. “You’re in love with each other.”

“Not yet, but we think we could be,” Sam said. He covered Tommy’s hand with his free one. “Tommy, Adam and I have talked it over a lot, and we both agreed that we’d never even have asked if we weren’t completely confident that this would work. Adam and I could work. We’d be good together. We know we would.”

“Good together,” Tommy repeated, but his mind had already drifted elsewhere. “So you’ve been talking about this for a while?”

“We’ve both been thinking about it for a long time, I think,” Adam said, casting another look to Sam that was like a secret signal. “We only started talking today.”

“Why today?” This time, Adam and Sam’s silent communication took on a panicked, dread-filled note. That, at least, Tommy could understand. He took his hand back from Sam. “What happened? Did you sleep together?”

“No, of course not,” Adam said. “We’d never do something like that without telling you first.”

Tommy studied their faces. “But something did happen. What?”

Sam started. “I worked all day on his album artwork, writing for it and formatting and everything. So when he came home I showed it to him and—”

“And it was amazing. Truly amazing,” Adam said, giving Sam a soft look. “And I don’t know. I was so happy with him and I’d been thinking about him that way for a while, and I just couldn’t hold back and—”

“He kissed me,” Sam concluded, and Tommy had to wonder if he was aware that he was touching his mouth as he said it, as if trying to bring back Adam’s touch.

“Just the once?” Again, Adam and Sam looked at each other. “Okay, then, how many times?”

“I don’t know,” Adam answered. “Three times? Maybe four?”

“Nothing else?”

Sam shook his head. “We talked it over, Tommy, and we realized it shouldn’t have happened, that we should have talked to you first. We’re sorry.”

Tommy felt his jaw clench. “When did you talk? I mean, did you remember me at the end of all of this, or was it somewhere between kisses two and three?”

“Tommy…” Sam started, but Adam cut him off.

“We know it was wrong, and we’re really sorry. I was caught up in the moment. You know how I am. I didn’t think.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Tommy said flatly.

Sam drew in a breath. “Sometime in between kisses two and three. But we were so confused, Tommy. Really. It didn’t feel like cheating to us. We never even thought of it that way.”

“What he means to say,” Adam said, when Tommy scowled, “is that we already feel like we’re in a relationship, through you. It took us a while to realize that this changed the relationship, I guess.”

“Well, color me grateful that you had the epiphany that you should run it by me, then,” Tommy snapped.

“Tommy…”

“You want my permission for this? What? To go out on dates and make out in front of me and what? Leave me alone for a night so you can go fuck?” Tommy stood, pushing his chair back a few feet. “So you can have even more of your stupid silent conversations that I can’t understand, or tell jokes I’m too stupid to get? Or is it just going to be more of the constant eye fucking and flirting? Because you know, I haven’t noticed it enough already.”

Both Sam and Adam were quiet, so quiet that Tommy thought perhaps they were just ignoring him now, which made him even angrier. But then Sam spoke.

“We really like each other, Tommy. I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel uncomfortable, and I’m really sorry that we kissed before we talked to you about it. But we do like each other, and we know that this could work. So we want your permission to try. We’re happy now, but we could be happy like you are, if we could be together too.”

 _Happy like you are._

Tommy thought about it, tried to picture it in his mind’s eye, how it would be if all three of them were in love with each other. Balanced, equal, happy.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see a balance. The scale always tipped too much to one side: the side of Sam and Adam. Of course they would love each other more than they loved him. They were perfect for each other, much better suited to each other than he was with either of them. Both handsome, smart, talented, rich, awesome people.

And if they had each other, they wouldn’t need him at all.

They were supposed to be his. They’d said he’d never have to choose; they’d said they’d be there for him, forever. He wanted that forever. He was counting on it. And he wasn’t about to lose them.

“No,” he whispered, and then repeated it again. Stronger. Louder. “No.”

Tommy stalked out of the room, hating the way they reached for each other as the pain hit, but hating himself even more.

*

He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping, only that he’d fallen asleep from exhaustion at some point during the evening, after his brain just couldn’t handle all the thinking anymore.

He’d chosen Adam’s room for some reason. Maybe because of the two identical ones that Adam and Sam had chosen, Adam’s, with all of his music strewn about, seemed more understanding at the moment. Why he hadn’t chosen his own room wasn’t a mystery. Though it was clearly his room, the number of nights he’d spent in it since moving in was zero.

He woke up hot, sweating a little even though the windows were open. He got up to open the sliding glass doors when he heard Sam’s low, sweet voice.

Tommy froze. He had hoped that both Adam and Sam would leave him alone for a while. Until the anger wore off, there was nothing to talk about anyways, at least not rationally.

 _Hell, they probably want time alone_ , Tommy thought bitterly.

As he stood still, listening, he realized that Sam’s voice wasn’t coming from the hallway. It was coming from outside, on the deck that linked Adam’s room with Sam’s.

He moved toward the sliding doors, peeking through the sheer curtain. The sun was setting, casting a rosy, golden glow over the distant hills and the trees. Sam and Adam were on the deck, a few feet apart, Tommy noted, and the rosy tint on their handsome faces made them both look like old Hollywood actors.

There was a slight tug at Tommy’s heart as he saw how tired and sad they looked.

“Say something. You’re too calm. It’s weirding me out,” Sam said, his voice carrying perfectly through Tommy’s open windows.

“I’m not calm. Not at all,” Adam answered, and Tommy watched him lean on the deck railing, lowering his upper half slowly as if in pain. “I’m…really angry, actually.”

“Me too. Much more than I thought I’d be.” Sam leaned back into the railing, turning toward Adam’s so that Tommy couldn’t see the anger in his face, but he still heard the bite in his voice. “It’s so hypocritical.”

“Yeah, and selfish.”

“Indeed. But I suppose we’ve created this monster, haven’t we? We’ve been giving him everything he wanted for months now.” Sam’s shoulders sagged. “I just keep thinking of all the things that I’ve wanted and haven’t asked for, haven’t pressured him about. Marriage. Having a kid. Moving back to New York. Not a word to him. But the one thing I do ask for…”

At that, Adam reached out his arm and pulled Sam close, hip to hip, though they were still looking opposite directions. Sam leaned his head in, pressing his temple to Adam’s. Adam spoke.

“For the most part, though, Tommy’s been really careful about treating us fairly and not hurting us,” Adam said in gentle defense, and Tommy was grateful to hear it. “So why this is different, I don’t know, but he must have his reasons. Maybe he sees something we don’t. Maybe this isn’t selfish at all.”

“Maybe,” Sam said, sounding doubtful. “All I see is how good we could be together.”

Adam squeezed Sam tight. When he spoke again, it was so quiet Tommy could barely hear him. “Me too. Getting up early and having breakfast together every day, arguing over movies and music, helping each other every time the muses are silent. It wouldn’t be that much different from the way we are now.”

“No, not that much different, although what we could add would be really nice.” A blush formed on Sam’s cheeks, darker than the rosy sunlight. “You know, maybe this is weird, but the last few weeks whenever Tommy’s come back to me from you, I’ve looked at his bruises and marks and imagined what you did to make him that way. I feel like I know you that way, from Tommy’s marks, from what I hear through the walls, and damn, Adam, we’d be good at it.”

Adam chuckled. “Yeah, we really would.” He paused, giving Tommy enough time and silence to hear the angry blood pounding in his ears. In the span of only a few hours he’d fallen from the person they loved most to their enemy. Then Adam spoke again, distracting him. “It’s the smell of you, for me.”

“The smell?” Sam asked.

Adam nodded. “You hardly ever wear cologne, but everything else is so you. Sam scents. Patchouli and cinnamon and cloves and sometimes smoke. You’re like a sweet smelling campfire. And once I got to know your scents I could really pick them out on Tommy’s skin. Sometimes it was like you were there. Sometimes, I swear I even tasted you on him.”

Sam made a strange, gurgling noise. “God, we’d be good together. And we would have been amazing with Tommy.”

“Jesus, I don’t think we’d ever bother to get dressed,” Adam said, laughing lightly. “The tour would have been so awesome.”

“The tour and everything. Sure, we couldn’t ever get married, the three of us, but we could have everything else together. Like kids, although, I’m not sure Tommy’s ever told me if you wanted any?”

“I do,” Adam replied without hesitation, and it surprised Tommy to hear. He knew Adam wasn’t opposed to children, but they’d never really discussed it. Tommy had always assumed Adam would be too busy. “And goodness knows, having three fathers around, those kids would be the most loved kids ever.”

Sam laughed, though it sounded sad and off. “No kidding. They’d never be alone if they didn’t want to be. But neither would we. We’d never have to spend a night alone again if we didn’t want to.”

“Could have been the three of us, snuggled tight in a big bed every night…”

The men grew quiet, deep in thought, and Tommy reached out to brace himself against the wall.

They certainly didn’t have any intention of getting rid of him. In fact, they seemed even more excited about a future for the three of them than they did for each other.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop tears from falling. How had he not seen that? The three of them together like that? All he’d seen was loneliness and jealousy and betrayal, and all they could see was a happy family.

Then Adam started to speak again, his voice breaking slightly over the syllables. “I’m going to have to move out, Sam.”

That seemed to suck all the air out of Tommy’s lungs, and, as if echoing it, Sam made a gasping sound.

“What? No.”

“I can’t lose Tommy. And if I stay in this house and see you every day, all I’ll want to do is kiss you and hold you and be with you. I won’t be able to hold back, and I’ll lose him.”

“You can’t,” Sam said, more an order than a protest. “We’re a family. We’re his family. Moving out would put us right back at square one, with him splitting his time between different houses. And… we wouldn’t ever see each other. We wouldn’t even be friends.”

“We can’t be friends.”

That seemed to wound Sam so much that his hand actually closed over his chest, over his heart. Tommy felt an echo of it there inside his own chest. “I don’t want to lose you. Despite all of this, you’re my friend, Adam. I need you.”

“Sam,” Adam said, voice choked. He folded Sam’s hands. “You know what track we’re speeding down right now, and if we stay close, we’re never going to stop. If he doesn’t want us together, this is the only way.”

Sam looked away, turning so that he was looking away from Adam, and Tommy could see his face clearly. Sam was crying, all out, so much that his face was blotchy and his thick eyelashes were clumped.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “But the house—”

“I meant for Tommy to have it. I still want him to. Don’t worry about the house.”

“But where will you go?”

Adam shrugged. “Sutan’s, maybe. I don’t know. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got plenty of friends who won’t mind me crashing.”

Sam turned and threw himself into Adam’s arms. “But I want you here. This is your house. Our house. Please don’t leave.”

“Sam…”

Sam pulled back, looking into Adam’s eyes. “I know…”

“We can’t lose him.”

Sam nodded, agreeing, but he leaned closer to Adam instead of pushing him away. “I want you to kiss me again. I know we shouldn’t, but I can’t feel bad about it. I want to remember what I’m losing forever.”

“Me too,” Adam said, and then lowered his mouth to Sam’s.

Tommy watched, awed, as they held each other tight and kissed, making it a kiss they’d both never forget. Tommy touched his lips, knowing exactly what Sam was feeling now, with Adam’s mouth on his; knowing exactly what Adam was feeling now, too. How both of their bodies felt against his, how they would feel against each other.

And he found he didn’t want to deny them that. Not anymore.

When they pulled away, they let go completely, hands lingering on each other’s skin for only seconds, as if trying hard not to make this a long goodbye.

“Do you mind telling him? I think I’ll just start packing. Get out as soon as possible.”

Sam nodded and Tommy saw fresh tears spring to his eyes, but Adam didn’t reach for him. Instead he went by him, making his way towards the sliding glass door.

Tommy opened it, and Adam halted. Behind him, Sam watched and Tommy couldn’t help but see a flash of anger on both of their faces.

“Hey,” Adam said. He glanced back at Sam, who lowered his gaze. “We’ve been talking and, um, we’ve decided it’s best if—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tommy said. Adam straightened, and Sam looked up, surprised. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It was hypocritical and selfish of me. I was only thinking of myself.”

Adam winced. “You heard that, huh?”

“Yeah. But I also heard how much I hurt you both. I never want to hurt either of you.”

Sam shrugged. “I know you don’t. But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sure neither of you wanted to share me, either,” Tommy said. “But it seems that worked out for the best. You really think this could work?”

Sam and Adam looked at each other, both smiling. Adam nodded. “Absolutely.”

Tommy nodded. Then he spoke again, slow and quiet. “You’d be great together. You’re both awesome, of course you will be. You have a lot in common. More than I do with you, really.”

At that, Sam moved close, ducking down to capture Tommy’s gaze with his own. “What do you mean?”

Tommy drew in a breath, feeling the same fear that had made him say no hours before creep back in. “Come on, Sam. You’re both geniuses, and really talented. You’re both sexy as hell. You like stuff that I don’t get, like fancy cars and restaurants and books and shit. Of course you’d like each other a lot.”

“And you thought maybe we’d like each other more than you?” Adam asked gently, and when Tommy nodded, Sam cursed.

“Why didn’t we see that?”

Adam looked at Sam, clearly angry at himself, then he turned to Tommy, curling a hand around each of his arms. “We do have a lot in common, but the biggest thing we have in common is our love for you. We are never going to leave you, Tommy. It’s you we’ve promised forever to. Even if, God help us, things wouldn’t work out between me and Sam, we are never, ever going to leave you. We’ve built our world around you.”

Tommy felt something hard and smooth being pressed into his palm, and he looked down to see Sam’s wedding ring in his hand. He looked to Sam, questioning, before lifting the ring in front of his face.

It was the same ring as always, simple and plain, but as he rolled it between his fingers something new caught in the late evening light.

His name. Engraved next to Landon’s, in the same thin script.

“You got it done when you were in New York?” Tommy asked, and Sam nodded. “But…” Tommy began, and Sam’s hand closed over his, over the ring.

“We don’t need to be married. I’m yours, ‘til death do we part, without a stupid certificate to say so.” He leaned forward, kissing Tommy solidly on the mouth. Then he turned to Adam. “I’ve been thinking of a ring for him, too, but we should both pick it out, don’t you think?”

Adam smiled as though it was the best idea he’d ever heard. “Definitely. And maybe I should pick one out for myself, too.”

Tommy felt like he could float, he was so happy. He took the ring and pushed it back onto Sam’s finger, and then took his hand and Adam’s, bringing both together. He felt a little silly, like he was the officiator at a wedding. In a way, he was.

He covered an errant giggle with a cough as Sam and Adam joined hands, and then said, “Okay, well, now that that’s settled and no one’s moving out and I’m not being a selfish bastard anymore, I think I’m going to go into the house and work on your music, Adam. It’s kicking my ass, and I need to practice if we have any hope of getting these tracks down tomorrow. But I’m going to need a lot of time. Probably all night.”

“All night, huh?” Adam asked, catching Tommy’s drift. “That’s a lot of time for me and Sam to be alone.”

Tommy played dumb. “Is it? Well. I guess that will give you and Sam time to get to know each other, then.”

“We know each other pretty well already, Tommy,” Sam said, amused, pressing him to say it for real.

“Well, there are some ways you don’t know each other,” Tommy said coyly. “And you should take some time, get to know each other that way. I mean, I’m going to be so busy and all, you might as well…”

Then Adam and Sam did that whole conversation-with-a-look thing, and winked at each other before taking each of his hands in theirs.

“How about…” Sam began.

“…you introduce us to each other. Help us get to know each other and all,” Adam finished.

Tommy shivered, everything in his body spiking all at once. “You really want me there?”

Both of them pressed against him, Adam in front, Sam against his back. And yeah, they both definitely wanted him. Tommy shivered again.

Both of them. Both of the men he loved. At the same time.

 _Sweet fucking Jesus._

“Okay,” Tommy breathed, and he heard Sam quip, “Your bedroom or mine?” before Adam decided for them, and pulled them both into his room.


	9. Rise

Tommy closed his eyes, and before he could open them again, someone’s lips were on the back of his neck. But he didn’t have to guess whose.

“Sam,” he whispered as the subtle scratch of Sam’s unshaven face tickled his neck. But as he stretched out for more, hands moved around his waist, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling up until it was gone. Someone took off his pants too. Then it wasn’t just Sam’s mouth on him but Adam’s as well, licking over his collarbone and up to his jaw.

Adam flattened himself against him, warm and solid, and Sam did the same behind him, but they weren’t kissing him anymore. Tommy turned his head and watched them kiss each other over his shoulder.

Gently, Tommy moved out from between them and they both gave him a confused look. But as much as he wanted this, wanted both of them lavishing attention on him, this wasn’t about him. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted to show them off to each other, to make them each find out exactly how lucky he’s been for months.

He faced Sam, close enough to kiss him, close enough that it was a tease that he didn’t. He pulled Sam’s shirt over his head and watched Sam’s broad chest flex with the sudden exposure to air, and then again when he realized Adam was watching.

Tommy smiled. So they were going to be shy with each other. That was fine. He’d just have to take a little more control. He leaned in closer, his lips moving against the shell of Sam’s ear, his hands flattening against Sam’s stomach. “You should show Adam how good you are with your mouth…”

Sam whimpered, a sound so quiet that Tommy was sure he was the only one who could hear, and then Tommy turned around to look at Adam. Adam stared at Sam, eyes roving greedily over his body, and Tommy knew exactly what he was seeing. That strong, muscular chest, washboard abs, the sexy trail of dark hair leading below the waist of his jeans, the curves of defined muscles around Sam’s hipbones.

Tommy stepped to Adam, pressing himself close. He put his hand over Adam’s heart, feeling it thump excitedly in his chest. He whispered to Adam, too, but Adam couldn’t resist kissing him on the cheek.

“Looks good, doesn’t he?” Adam answered with a slight moan. “Wait until he’s completely naked.”

As Adam moaned again, Tommy started to work. He took off Adam’s shirt and moved behind him, his hands never leaving Adam’s skin. Sam was watching him as he pushed the button on Adam’s jeans through its hole and pulled his zipper down. When Tommy pushed Adam’s jeans down over his hips and Sam got his first look at Adam’s cock, Sam licked his lips appreciatively. Tommy could only nod along in agreement.

“Oh my god,” Adam whispered as Sam sank to his knees in front of him.

“He’s so good at this, Adam. His mouth is unbelievable.”

Adam moaned again and Sam cast Tommy a nervous look from his position on the floor. Tommy pushed his fingers through Sam’s curls, understanding that look completely. Adam’s cock was intimidating as hell.

“Go on, show him,” Tommy said to Sam, and that appeared to be all the encouragement he needed. He licked a line straight up the underside of Adam’s cock before taking nearly the whole thing into his mouth.

Adam reached for Tommy and squeezed his arm hard enough that Tommy knew he’d have bruises for a week. Tommy whimpered but did his best to hold Adam up as his knees buckled.

“Told ya,” Tommy whispered to him and Adam let out a small, weak laugh as Sam’s mouth sucked away each coherent thought in his head. Tommy knew that feeling, how Sam always seemed to know how much pressure, when to use his tongue, when to go deepest, when to use his hands, until you were nothing but a bunch of nerve endings and babbling words.

And fuck if this wasn’t the prettiest thing Tommy had ever seen. Sam on his knees in front of Adam, his full lips wrapped around Adam’s big cock, everything glistening wet and pink, and Adam half-delirious with pleasure.

A small moan escaped Tommy’s mouth, and Sam’s big olive eyes snapped up to meet his. Gorgeous.

But then Adam whispered, “Sam” and Sam pulled off of him, rubbing his cheek instead against Adam’s cock. Adam groaned and slid a hand through Sam’s hair, pulling just a bit to tell him to get up.

As soon as Sam was standing, Adam’s hands were working open his pants. Adam didn’t bother taking them off; he shoved the material aside and reached one hand into Sam’s boxers, grasping him in a tight fist. Tommy’s mouth closed over Sam’s just as he let out a scream.

Adam’s other hand trailed over Tommy’s ass, and Tommy kept kissing Sam as he heard Adam whisper with a laugh, “Jesus. No wonder you weren’t that impressed with me.”

Tommy almost laughed. It was no fault of his own that he was a size queen, he was just lucky. He licked away traces of Adam’s saltiness inside Sam’s mouth and then pulled back. Adam needed a turn.

He didn’t even have to initiate it; Adam’s mouth was on Sam’s fast, greedily. His hand continued stroking and pulling just the right way, so that Sam was moaning rhythmically, his hips moving to the same beat.

Tommy supposed maybe he should have warned Sam that Adam could be devastating with his hands but it was a hell of a lot more fun to let him find out this way.

While Adam was keeping Sam so thoroughly entertained, Tommy worked on getting Sam completely undressed and when they came up for air again, all three of them were naked.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, unsure what to do next and overwhelmed with the possibilities.

Though Tommy had often fantasized about what being with both Adam and Sam would be like, fantasy left a lot of wiggle room to toss rules, assumptions, and habits aside. In his fantasies there were never any decisions to be made and more importantly, no absolutes in which neither Adam nor Sam would refuse to budge.

But now, looking at both of his boyfriends, Tommy was at a loss. Both of them were the toppiest kind of tops, in their own unique ways. But before Tommy could offer them any sort of suggestion, which was of course going to be that they both just fuck him now and figure out the logistics later, Sam spoke.

“Want to feel you in me,” he said to Adam, and Adam seemed to understand the underlying message in that.

“You don’t have to,” he said to Sam.

“Want to,” Sam breathed, kissing Adam, pressing their naked bodies together. “But… go slow. It’s been a while.”

Over two years, Tommy knew. That was when Tommy had fucked Sam last, and although it hadn’t been awful – sex between them never was – it had also been clear that both of them much preferred it the other way around. And why mess with a good thing?

Then, to Tommy’s utter surprise, his boyfriends did something that seemed to shift the world west, so that everything was a little warmer, a little brighter, and a little softer.

Adam took Sam’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, kissing his knuckles slowly, one by one, and Sam nuzzled into their joined hands, eyes closed. For a moment they just breathed each other’s air.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Adam whispered, and then he looked over at Tommy to add, “Thank you.”

That made Tommy’s chest ache. As much as he’d wanted to be here, Tommy wondered then if he should be, if perhaps it would be better to let them share this on their own – but also, he wondered for the first time if he was truly ready to see this. He believed they wouldn’t leave him, but would he still believe that after seeing them together? Just seeing the love in their eyes as they held hands was hard.

But then Adam’s hand slipped into his and squeezed, and his blue eyes were looking at him adoringly and pleadingly. “Help me make this as good as I can for him.”

That, Tommy could do.

Tommy led Sam to the bed and they both lay down on it. He kissed Sam, tasting salt again, and wondered if it was possible that he was still tasting Adam. Somewhere in the room, Adam was rummaging around, gathering supplies, and when Tommy’s hand was turned, palm side up, and filled with something cool and slippery, he knew just what to do.

He lifted his mouth from Sam’s and said, “Gonna get you ready for him. Gonna look so good with him inside you.”

Sam gave a soft moan and Tommy kissed it away before moving down and situating himself between Sam’s legs. He pushed them wider apart and rubbed his fingers together. But before he rubbed them over Sam’s hole, he bent his head and licked.

Sam cried out something – it might have been Tommy’s name, it might have been Adam’s – and arched. Tommy continued to lick. Big circles and then small, savoring the sweet musky flavor. The bed shifted and Adam appeared next to him, watching with shallow breaths as Tommy flicked his tongue over Sam’s hole again and again. When Tommy pressed his tongue inside Sam, pushing through the tight ring of muscle, both Sam and Adam moaned. Adam reached down and took Sam’s cock in his hand, pumping it in tandem with Tommy’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Sam said, and it echoed around in Tommy’s head. He was only vaguely aware that Adam had let go of Sam and was now wrapping his fingers around Tommy’s, borrowing some of the lube he had yet to use.

Tommy pulled back from Sam with one last lick and smiled at Adam, not needing the slightest hint as to what should come next. He let his slick finger slide over Sam’s hole and then, finally, in. Adam waited, patient, as Sam arched again and his body adjusted, before pushing his own finger inside Sam as well.

“Fuck, he’s tight,” Adam said to Tommy, looking nearly pained he was so intrigued by the thought, and Tommy understood that. The velvety pressure around Tommy’s finger took his own cock from hard to painfully full, and he pressed his mouth to Adam’s, desperate to vent some of his compounding frustration.

“Adam,” Sam said weakly, and Adam pulled away from Tommy to look at him, still moving his finger along with Tommy’s.

Adam kissed Sam’s thigh. “Almost there, baby,” he said, and then whispered to Tommy, “Go kiss him for me.”

Tommy crawled up Sam’s side until he was next to him, and before he could kiss him, Adam had added more of his own fingers. As they were bigger than Tommy’s, they spread Sam deliciously open.

Sam’s head fell back on the pillow and he bit back a moan.

Tommy watched the pleasure spread over Sam’s body, all of his muscles constricting and then relaxing into glorious surrender. Sam began to move with Adam, hips rolling with each thrust of fingers.

Tommy bent close to Sam’s ear, biting his lobe hard before whispering, “Ready for him?”

Sam turned to look at him, eyes wide with questions but trusting as well.

“He will never hurt you,” Tommy said, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was just talking about sex. “Let him in. Once he’s in you, you’ll never want to be without him.”

Sam nodded, and just as he did, Adam pulled his fingers out and Sam made a small noise of protest. Then Adam was crawling up the length of Sam’s body, kissing him from navel to his lips, where he remained. He kissed Sam, slow, deep, and a little sloppy, until Sam was rocking underneath him, desperate for more friction.

Adam leaned back on his knees, smiling down at Sam with a dazed grin. He pulled up on Sam’s right knee, planting a soft, open-mouthed kiss on it before saying, “Christ, you’re incredible.”

Sam closed his eyes, relishing the compliment, and whispered, “Need you.”

The tone of his voice sent a shiver through Tommy. It was his desperate voice, the one he used when he was so deeply past the point of stopping he was practically mad with it.

Adam didn’t keep him waiting. He leaned forward, took a breath, and pushed inside of Sam.

Tommy was used to Adam pausing at this moment, to let Tommy adjust to the feeling of being so full, to let himself adjust to the intense pressure. But when he paused with Sam it was a little different. He didn’t ask Sam if he was okay – Adam seemed to know instinctively that Sam could handle him, and he didn’t seem to be holding himself back. Instead, Tommy could clearly read something akin to relief on Adam’s face, as if he’d found something that had been lost for a long time.

Tommy had seen that exact look on Adam’s face once – the first time they’d made love.

Sam reached up with one hand, his palm to Adam’s cheek. Because the two of them never seemed to need words, this was all Adam needed to draw him back down to earth, and he bent down to kiss Sam, pushing even further inside him as he did. Adam’s mouth covered Sam’s gasp, and Sam’s legs flexed tightly around Adam’s hips, but then he relaxed. As Adam started to move, they both let out moans, shaky and broken, lips not touching but close enough to.

Tommy, however, was frozen, riveted, unable to move as he watched them together. No trace of jealousy existed inside him. Instead, it was like he couldn’t get enough. The way they moved was mesmerizing, Sam’s body rising to meet each push of Adam’s, the way the tide meets the shore.

Was he this beautiful with Adam? Was he this beautiful with Sam?

But he wasted no time on worrying, on wondering. He just watched, loving the way their eyes never left each other’s faces, loving each sigh of pleasure that fell from their lips, loving the way they were loving each other.

It didn’t occur to him until Sam uttered his name so desperately that he could have been helping.

He moved closer to Sam, his body flush with Sam’s side, and kissed him, licking up the noises Sam made every time Adam moved. Then he reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around Sam’s heavy cock.

Sam’s muscles tensed, ripping a near scream from Adam’s throat.

Encouraged, Tommy slid his fist up and down Sam’s length, moving with Adam’s rhythm just as much as Sam. Sam shuddered, his body losing some of the fluidity it had had moments before as Tommy and Adam drove him closer to the edge.

But then Adam stilled, his hand coming to rest over Tommy’s, and they both looked at him in question.

“Not gonna last,” Adam said, voice strained. “Feels too good. Looks so amazing…”

But Sam used his legs to pull Adam closer, deeper. He leaned up and nipped at Adam’s mouth. “I don’t think Tommy will mind finishing me off. Come on, Adam. Want you to come inside me.”

With Sam’s permission, Adam let himself go. Just a few more thrusts deep inside Sam’s body and he was coming, Sam’s name spilling brokenly from his lips.

Sam caught Adam as he fell and wrapped himself around Adam’s limp form. Tommy could hear them whispering things to each other, so softly he could only catch snippets but he got the gist – happiness, gratefulness, the sense of being complete.

Tommy let them have their moment and reached for the lube, coating his fingers with a few drops. Enough for himself and a little for Sam, too.

When Sam and Adam pulled apart, still a little breathless, Tommy was on his knees, one hand behind his back, working himself open.

“Fuck,” Adam whispered, and Sam nodded.

Tommy moved forward, wrapping his hand around Sam’s cock to get it nice and slippery as he licked across Adam’s lips.

“Gonna borrow your boyfriend now, if that’s okay,” Tommy said, humor coating his voice, and Adam laughed.

“Only if I can help.”

“Deal.”

Adam helped Tommy maneuver himself on top of Sam and gave Sam a few quick, hard strokes himself before lining him up with Tommy’s hole. Tommy eased himself down on Sam’s cock slowly, leaning back against Adam’s steadying hands for balance.

Tommy made a strangled sound when Sam was all the way inside of him, and gave himself a moment to calm down before moving. Sam filled him so well, so that every time Tommy was somewhere between saying it was too much and wanting more.

“Okay?” Adam whispered behind him, even though his voice held no trace of concern. Adam knew his body, knew that he needed a moment – not to get used to the stretch, but to get used to the intensity. He wasn’t asking Tommy if he was okay, but if he was ready.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, and leaned forward to give Sam a wet kiss on the mouth before starting to move. It took him a mere moment to find the right angle and rhythm. Sam recognized the blissful look on his face when he found it, and raised his hips as Tommy lowered his, giving him even more.

“Fuck,” Tommy said, and heard the word echoed over his shoulder from Adam’s mouth.

“You look so good, M,” Adam said, his hands on Tommy’s back, helping Tommy keep his rhythm. “You should see it from back here, the way he fills you up…”

Tommy leaned back against Adam and _fuck,_ that angle was even better. He went limp as Sam drove up into him over and over, hitting that delicious spot inside him again and again. One of Adam’s hands gripped his hip, keeping him upright, driving his pace, and the other…

“Oh my god…” Tommy breathed as Adam’s hand wrapped around his cock and started pumping.

“Let go,” Adam ordered, and with the gripping pressure of Adam’s hand and the incredible fullness of Sam inside him, he had no choice but to obey. He came with a cry, shooting all over Sam’s chest.

He fell forward uselessly, smearing his own mess between his chest and Sam’s. But Sam wasn’t done. He slid his hands down over Tommy’s ass and kept him in place, thrusting up into to him once, twice, three times before moaning loudly into Tommy’s ear and going still.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam mumbled and Tommy nodded against him. Then Adam’s strong hands were turning him, easing him down onto the mattress on his back. Tommy let his eyes fall shut and tried to catch his breath.

Then Sam hissed, and Tommy opened one eye to see Adam between Sam’s legs, mouth wrapped around Sam’s softening cock. Sam was looking down at him in question.

Adam pulled off, grinning. “Had to taste you,” he explained.

“He tastes good.”

“Yeah, he does,” Adam agreed, and Sam laughed softly, exhausted.

Adam moved up Sam’s body, kissing every ripple of muscle on the way to his mouth. Sam hummed drowsily, accepting the kisses with a smile and a hand running through Adam’s hair appreciatively.

“Should have warned you,” Tommy said, and Adam looked to him in question. “Sam’s kind of a roll-over-and-sleep guy.”

Sam said, “Not always,” but didn’t open his eyes even for the argument, so the effect was lost.

Adam chuckled and situated himself between Tommy and Sam in the bed. “And I’m a hurry-up-let’s-go-again kind of guy. Oh well.”

“Just a small nap,” Sam said, turning to nuzzle into Adam’s neck.

Tommy watched a contented smile spread over Adam’s face. Adam noticed him looking and said, “I’m so happy.”

“Me too,” Tommy answered. And he was. Happy for himself, happy for both of them. He wondered if it was possible that he loved them more because they loved each other now. That’s how it felt. Like their new love was contagious.

“Me too,” Sam mumbled against Adam’s neck, and Adam pulled both Sam and Tommy closer, and they went to sleep.

*

“Sam…”

It was well past three in the morning but Adam was wide awake, an unbearable burning building inside him with every passing moment.

Sam was next to him, his hard, tight body half on top of his, one of his thighs rubbing against Adam’s crotch.

And that was a big part of the problem.

“Sam,” Adam repeated again, and this time Sam stirred, mumbling Adam’s name as he blinked in the darkness.

Adam lifted his hips, grinding his erection against Sam’s leg, saying all that needed to be said.

Sam whimpered. “Jesus, Adam. Good dreams?”

“Can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I know what you mean,” Sam said, and pressed himself back into Adam, showing him they were in the same predicament. “Need you again.”

Sam kissed him and Adam wound his hands in Sam’s hair, pulling hard in his excitement. Sam’s tongue swirled around his, and a seductive taste of clove and cinnamon filled his mouth. “Sam,” he panted, nearly desperate with need by the time they pulled away.

Sam’s pretty eyes were soft but a little worried in the moonlight. “I feel a little sore, but if you go slow enough—”

“No,” Adam said, shaking his head uselessly. “I want _you_ , Sam.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” said Sam, the meaning sinking in. Adam was sure that somewhere along the line, through words or markings or something, Tommy had relayed the message that it wasn’t exactly a typical thing for Adam to bottom, and more uncertainty crept into Sam’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Couldn’t be more sure,” Adam said. Christ. Ever since he’d felt Sam’s broadness wrapped around him with that first embrace, he’d wanted this. Hell, maybe since the first time they’d fought, even. That show of Sam’s power and strength had sent a thrilling, submissive ripple through his body, though he’d scarcely been able to admit it to himself then. He shifted, rubbing himself against Sam a little more. “Come on…”

Sam laughed, a touch on the dark side. “Adam Lambert wants me to fuck him. That’s pretty awesome.”

“Oh, now you get all star struck. Wish I’d had that power all along…”

Sam crawled on top of Adam, parting his legs with a knee. “Didn’t work so much when I hated your guts.” Then he bent down, kissing Adam with surprising gentleness. “Christ, what would I have done if you hadn’t wanted me back?”

“How could I not? There’s a reason why his world revolves around you.”

“Speaking of… should we wake Tommy?”

They both turned to the blond curled up next to them.

“Well,” Adam said, “He can sleep through anything, but what’s the fun in that?”

Sam reached underneath the covers and let his fingers wander over Tommy’s skin. “I have an idea…”

Tommy’s eyes fluttered open and he moaned a little as Sam’s hand slipped lower.

“What idea is that?” Adam asked, a bit frustrated. Waking Tommy was all well and good but he was the one that needed Sam’s attention.

“Up for giving as well as receiving?”

Sam’s question made Adam’s whole body hum with need. He licked his lips, which Sam took as an answer.

“See? I’m full of good ideas.” Sam kissed him again, his tongue invading Adam’s mouth like he owned it. Next to them, Tommy moaned again as Sam’s hand worked magic under the covers.

“And I love how well you multi-task,” Adam mumbled against Sam’s mouth and Sam laughed.

“Somebody kiss me. Jesus, I’m dying,” Tommy said, and Sam acquiesced. As he leaned towards Tommy, his cock slid over Adam’s and Adam had to bite back a moan.

“So,” Sam said, kissing Tommy’s mouth, then the corner of his mouth, then his chin. “Adam wants me to fuck him. How awesome is that?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Christ. One rock star wants you and your ego gets completely out of control.”

“Trust me, you never completely get over it. I still kind of want to call up my friends and brag sometimes,” Tommy said, and then answered the question at hand. “Only if one of you fucks me too.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Sam said, grinning.

“Fantastic. Now can we get back to having amazing sex?” Adam sighed. “I swear to God, if this ends up on the cover of US Weekly…”

“They’d pay big for a threesome story.” Sam wiggled his brows and bent low, licking up a tendon in Adam’s neck before Adam could say any more about it. That snapped Adam’s focus back to the task at hand, which, of course, was getting off.

“Shit,” Adam mumbled and rolled his hips underneath Sam. “Come on, I need you.”

But Sam hummed in disagreement. “I think I’d rather watch Tommy suck your big cock for a while.”

Adam had to admit, Sam was indeed full of good ideas.

Tommy was already moving, sliding down until he was situated between Adam’s legs. Then he parted his lips, licked them until they were glistening wet, and slid his mouth down Adam’s length.

“Jesus fuck,” Adam hissed, and Sam nodded.

“Looks just as good as I imagined it would.”

All Adam could do was lay back and let Tommy’s mouth suck away his sanity. He settled a hand in Tommy’s hair and left it there, fingers tightening around the strands whenever Tommy took him in deep.

He was vaguely aware that Sam was to his left, watching with intense interest. He could feel the heat of his gaze, felt it all the way to the tip of his cock.

“Sam,” Adam whispered, and Sam raised a finger to his mouth to signal quiet. The finger was shiny with lube.

Adam kept his eyes trained on Sam as he moved behind Tommy. Tommy automatically spread himself wider and raised his ass higher, and Adam couldn’t help but moan as this new position made Tommy’s mouth sink ever deeper over him. He wished there was a mirror in the room so that he could see Sam working Tommy open, but he felt it instead. The second Sam slid his fingers inside him, Tommy’s mouth and throat vibrated around him with a raw moan. Adam pulled his hair hard.

Tommy moaned again, this time more urgently, and Adam released his hair. He stroked over his head, apologizing, but Tommy kept his pace, never letting Adam fall out of his mouth. Adam looked into Tommy’s whiskey eyes and knew Sam didn’t need to take too long.

“Don’t need much, do you? Sam fucked you so well, didn’t he?”

Tommy hummed yes around Adam’s cock and Adam moaned again.

“Jesus,” Sam said shakily. Adam looked at him, and he was staring at Tommy’s ass. “Adam, if you still want me to fuck you, you’d better get ready because this view is way too tempting.”

Tommy, naughty boy that he was, wiggled his ass a little in Sam’s face, and Sam slapped it hard enough that finally, Tommy stopped sucking Adam’s dick so that he could complain.

“Ouch, fucker.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it when he does it,” Sam said, grinning. “Adam, the little blond is forgetting his place, I think.”

“Not for long,” Adam said. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s waist, roughly flipping him on his back and throwing him down on the bed. Tommy responded to the manhandling like he always did: he pouted in a way that was more like begging than showing displeasure, and then spread himself out on the bed as much as possible, legs falling apart to reveal exactly how slicked up and open he was.

Adam turned to Sam with a frustrated groan, and Sam shrugged. “He _is_ asking for it,” Sam said.

“Tart,” Adam grumbled at Tommy, then turned back to Sam. “He’s going to have to wait for us.”

“Fitting punishment,” Sam remarked, then he moved behind Adam and guided them both between Tommy’s legs. “Why don’t you kiss him a little? Tease the hell out of him while I get you ready.”

Adam wanted to tell Sam just to fuck him already, that he could handle it, though he knew it probably wasn’t true. It had been so long, and Sam wasn’t exactly small.

It was as if Sam was reading his thoughts, and he whispered into Adam’s ear, “I won’t take long, I promise.”

So Adam did as Sam had suggested and settled himself on top of Tommy, kissing him in a way that was somewhere between loving and brutal.

Tommy, the little shit, made no attempt to stop himself from rolling his hips against Adam’s, trying to rub himself off.

“You keep doing that,” Adam said between kisses, “and you’re not going to get fucked at all.”

“Just do it already,” Tommy hissed at him, but before Adam could say anything in response, he felt Sam’s fingers glide over his tailbone and over the curve of his ass cheeks before coming to rest on his hole.

“Oh my god,” Adam gasped, and, true to his word, Sam wasted no time. He pushed his fingers inside.

Adam went completely limp on top of Tommy, his head hanging down over Tommy’s shoulder and pressed into the pillow. Sam was relentless, his big, long fingers fucking him over and over, curving just enough to make all the pleasure pool hot and thick into his groin.

“I’m telling you, it’s better on bottom,” Tommy said, his tone filled with humor, and Adam agreed silently.

He lifted his ass up and spread his legs more, letting Sam get deeper.

“God, you look amazing like this, do you know that?”

Adam barely heard Sam’s words. His blood buzzed in his veins, in his ears, and all he could think about was the stretch of Sam’s fingers, the pressure of his fingertips on his inner walls, the pulsing feeling of his own cock, hanging heavily between his legs. And Tommy, god damn it, reaching between their bodies to stroke him.

“Ah, fuck. Now, Sam.”

Sam didn’t argue with him. Adam felt the blunt, burning press of the head of Sam’s cock against his hole and then Sam pushed in. For a second the pain was blinding, but only for a second. Then all he could feel was the same kind of pressure and stretch Sam’s fingers had given him, only bigger, more intense, better.

“Okay?” Sam asked.

In answer, Adam pushed back against Sam, impaling himself completely.

Sam’s moan filled the room, echoing off their high ceilings. Adam wondered if he could possibly feel as good as Sam had, or as Tommy always does, like satiny warmth squeezing just right. When Sam pulled out a little and pushed back in, eliciting another moan from both of them, Adam had to believe he did.

“Damn, that looks good,” Tommy said beneath him and arched, rubbing up against him again. “Come on, Adam. Fuck me too.”

Sam laughed darkly. “Do as he says, Adam.”

Adam couldn’t have argued with their logic, even if he’d wanted to. But on his knees like this for Sam, Tommy was too far away. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the pillows behind Tommy’s head. Tommy read his mind, lifting himself up while Adam slipped the pillows underneath his ass. Perfect.

Tommy wriggled underneath him, impatient, and Sam chuckled. He whispered into Adam’s ear, “Ready?”

Adam lined himself up and nodded.

Slowly, so slowly it drove all three of them close to madness, Sam pushed forward into Adam, pushing Adam deep into Tommy.

“Fuck. Oh my god, fuck,” Adam said. Hot wet heat around his cock, fullness and pressure inside him; it was too much. Too much and way too good.

“Good, baby?” Sam asked, and both Adam and Tommy answered with an enthusiastic yes. Sam leaned forward so that his mouth was touching Adam’s ear, forcing Adam’s cock even deeper into Tommy. “You two look so good like that.”

Then he began to move. His pace was slow with long, gentle thrusts in, and then, reluctantly, easing out. Adam had no choice but to follow, allowing Sam to drive him into Tommy’s body.

But their bodies learned the motions quickly, and soon Sam was moving faster, snapping his hips again and again so that even Tommy felt the intensity of them.

Adam had never felt so full in his life, so right. He wanted more of Sam, wanted it harder, wanted more of Sam inside him, wanted to stretch himself wide around Sam’s cock. He felt crazy for it, like an addict taking a hit after far too long without the drug. He couldn’t get enough. All he could think was more, more more more.

“So easy to be a slut for it, isn’t it?” Tommy whispered to him before Sam fucked into Adam hard, and Tommy’s voice broke into something damn near a scream.

Adam could only let Sam drive into him relentlessly. He was powerless and desperate for more. Tommy tightened around him, clearly feeling the same way, gripping Adam’s cock so tightly with his body that Adam’s vision blurred.

“Sam, I can’t… I’m not going to…”

“Touch yourself, Tommy,” Sam ordered as if that was some kind of solution.

Tommy obeyed his other lover, reaching between his body and Adam’s to stroke himself. Tommy’s body gripped him even tighter with the tension building within him as he stroked, and Adam realized what Sam’s plan was. He was going to push them both over the edge at the same time.

Sam chased after Tommy’s movements, thrusting into Adam hard and precisely with each of Tommy’s strokes, and Tommy took Adam in greedily, hips rising to meet Sam’s pace. Tommy tensed, making himself tighter and tighter until his body went completely rigid. He came in hot spurts, clamping tight around Adam. It was too much, and Adam came too, pulsing inside of Tommy, his body shaking with the power of it. Sam pounded into him with each pulse until the pleasure waned, and each thrust became sharp, bordering on pain.

Adam collapsed on Tommy, sweaty and sticky, and Tommy held him tightly. Adam felt so sated, his brain so foggy with the remnants of pleasure, that he would have been content to stay in Tommy’s arms, willingly letting Sam pound into him forever.

But Sam had other ideas. He pulled out of Adam, and while Adam was whimpering in protest, he gently maneuvered Adam down to the mattress, flat on his back.

“Need to see your face,” Sam whispered to him, and warmth stirred in Adam’s chest. He reached up and stroked his hands across Sam’s face. Sam’s olive eyes were intense, dark with passion and heat. Adam pulled Sam on top of him, and in a swift, subtle move, Sam filled him again.

Tommy moaned next to them, and Adam felt his pain. He was getting turned on again, too, and it was too soon. Adam reached for Tommy, pulling him close for a kiss as Sam filled him over and over.

But Sam was too close for it to matter, and the sight of Adam and Tommy kissing was all he needed. He pressed himself as far into Adam’s body as he could and gave one last, long thrust. Adam kissed him as he came, swallowing his own name as it fell from Sam’s mouth.

Sam’s body gave out and he collapsed on top of Adam, sliding into the valley between his body and Tommy’s and making them one big, sticky pile.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of unsteady, labored breathing and thumping heartbeats. Then Tommy said, “Well, fuck…”

“You can say that again,” Adam said, and Tommy did.

“No. Not for a while,” Sam said, his voice dampened by Adam’s shoulder.

“Maybe not for _days_ ,” Adam agreed, and as he said it, he felt how gloriously used and stretched out his body was. Damn, that was a nice feeling.

Tommy snorted and threw a leg over Sam. “You can say that all you want, but me and Sam are way too sexy. You won’t last.”

“I think it’s clear I didn’t.”

Tommy snorted again at that and Sam sighed with exhaustion. He was already beginning to drift off to sleep.

“I love you guys,” Tommy whispered just as Adam shut his heavy eyelids.

“Love you, too,” Adam whispered, and heard Sam echo the same thing before giving in, and sliding into the world of dreams.

*

Adam watched his lovers sleep in the early morning light. Tommy’s head was on Sam’s chest, cheek flat against him, blond hair spread over Sam’s olive skin. Adam was on Sam's other side, pressed snugly to him. Their legs tangled underneath the sheets and their breathing was slow but in time, together.

As if sensing that he was being watched, Sam opened his eyes and blinked. When he saw Adam, he smiled.

“Morning,” he said in a voice weakened from sleep, and strained from the night before.

Adam ran a hand down his chest. “Morning.”

Sam sighed at the touch, and pushed his fingers through Tommy’s hair, passing the feeling on. Tommy didn’t wake, but mumbled Sam’s name in his sleep.

“I’ve never figured out how it’s possible, but he’s even prettier when he sleeps,” Sam said, and Adam nodded.

“And so are you.”

Sam looked at him, flushing. “You watched me sleep?”

“Of course.” Adam leaned down, planting a small kiss on Sam’s mouth. “Sam, last night was…”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “It was.”

“My head is spinning. In a good way.”

“Mine too,” Sam said. He raised his head slightly to kiss Adam again. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. I had the crazy thought before I fell asleep that maybe the universe is sorry for taking Landon and is trying to make it up to me.”

“That explains you, but what did I do to deserve this?”

“Please. If anyone’s had to put up with the world’s bullshit for the last few years, it’s you. It owes you,” Sam said.

Adam could only agree, and he snuggled closer to Sam, his nose in Sam’s curls. “I think I was up half the night, making plans and thinking about the future. Our future.”

Adam could feel Sam smile. “Come to any conclusions?”

“I want you to meet my family. Because they’re yours now, too.”

Sam hummed happily at that. “When will you be done with the record?”

“Two weeks. Tops.”

“Come with me to Ohio. Meet my parents, too. And our friends there. Meet Meg.”

“Your friend who wants to have a baby with you?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “But this is your decision now, too. If for some reason you don’t like her—”

“If you and Tommy love her, I can’t imagine that would be the case.”

Adam felt Sam smile again. “She’s smart, and beautiful, and really compassionate.”

“Sounds like great genes to pass on.”

Sam chuckled. “Exactly. Will your parents be weirded out by all of this?”

“I don’t think I can shock them anymore. But if I do, the talk of a grandchild will shut them up.”

Sam snorted. “I think our mothers would get along.”

“I have a feeling they would.” Adam picked his head up so that he could look down into Sam’s face. “Is this too fast? I mean, should we be making all these plans?”

“I don’t know. Do you feel like it’s too fast?”

“No,” Adam answered. “But I feel like I _should_ feel that way. I mean, we just bought a house together and now we’re talking children, and having our families meet, and… this can’t be normal, right?”

“Since when have we been normal?” Sam asked, chuckling. He slid his hand up Adam’s body, until it came to rest on his neck. Adam felt his heart give a thumping beat. He loved it when Sam did that, it made him feel owned. In a good way. And liking that kind of feeling was foreign and thrilling. “I know we can do this, Adam. I’m sure of it.”

“Of course you can,” Tommy said, picking his head up off of Sam’s chest. He looked slightly annoyed from being woken up by all of their chatter. “You do realize you’re in love with each other, right?”

Sam winced. “You know, I was trying to work up the courage to say it for the first time. I would have gotten around to it.”

Adam gaped at him. “You felt like you needed courage?”

“Well, yeah.” Sam’s face was red. “I had a million chances yesterday but I was so afraid you didn’t feel that way yet, and I’d look like an idiot.”

Adam shook his head. “I was kind of the same, but more afraid of looking like an obsessive psycho than an idiot, really. That and hurting Tommy.”

“You love each other. It’s disgustingly cute. Now can we go back to sleep?” Tommy grumbled.

“I hate to break it to you, M, but you’ve got studio work in an hour,” Adam pointed out, and Tommy let out a whine.

“You’re working me like a slave. It has to be illegal.” Tommy pouted and looked at Sam. “Tell him to stop being a meanie.”

“I think you should probably get dressed and get your cute ass to the studio.” He gave Adam a significant look.

Tommy pouted even more. “Oh. I see. You’re going to have fun all day without me.”

“That’s the plan,” Adam said, his voice already coated with lust at the thought of it. “But the sooner you get done recording, the sooner you can join us again. How’s that for motivation?”

Tommy was up and pulling on his clothes in no time, making Adam and Sam laugh. He headed into the bathroom and they could hear him brushing his teeth, humming one of Adam’s bass lines in between swipes.

“I’m glad he said it,” Adam said, curling around Sam. “It feels so good to finally say.”

“But you haven’t said it yet,” Sam teased, and Adam rolled his eyes.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too, Adam.” He reached down and slid the wedding band off of his finger and held it up in front of Adam’s face. They looked through it at each other, the little inscriptions on the inside in their periphery. “There’s room for another name. Especially a short, four-letter one.”

“‘Til death do us part?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered dreamily. “If that’s what you want it to mean.”

“I do.”

Just then, Tommy poked his head out of the bathroom, toothpaste running down his chin. “What, you’re proposing to each other now? I don’t think I got a proposal from either of you. Not even roses or chocolates. What a load of crap.”

He stepped back into the bathroom, leaving Adam and Sam groaning.

Sam slipped the ring on his finger. “Well, it could mean a murder-suicide pact.”

Adam covered his mouth as he laughed. “He may drive us to it.”

“I heard that!” Tommy yelled to them.

“Please tell me you only want one kid,” Sam said.

“One is plenty.”

Sam sat up and called into the bathroom. “Adam only wants one kid. You’re outnumbered.”

Tommy came out of the bathroom again. “Oh no. This is not a democracy. That’s not how this is going to work.”

Sam raised his hand. “All those in favor of this relationship working as a democracy, please say aye.”

“Aye!” Adam and Sam proclaimed in unison, and Sam stuck his tongue out at Tommy. “Two against one. You lose.”

“God damn it,” Tommy muttered and sat down to tug on boots.

Adam buried his head in Sam’s shoulder so that Tommy couldn’t see him laughing. “One child is more than enough with Tommy around.”

“Agreed,” Sam said, then he looked to Tommy, patting the bed. “Hey, before you get those shoes on, why don’t you come back here and show me and Adam what we’re going to be missing all day.”

Tommy smiled and kicked off his boots before jumping into bed between them, more than happy to oblige.


	10. Postlude

**  
_The Good Stuff_   
**

_Rolling Stone  
August, 2018_

 _Written by Sam Raines_

 _When the reviews for my 2014 book, Return, came out, I was a little bit hurt. “But where is the good stuff?” they all seemed to say. Where are the secrets? Where are all the dirty little details?_

 _For me, the most interesting things about Adam Lambert have nothing to do with me, or Tommy, or our relationship. Nah. Adam’s interesting because he’s deep thinking, because he’s so empathetic, and because he’s so talented that he seems inhuman._

 _I thought I did a pretty good job writing about all of those things in Return, but of course, I drastically underestimated my audience’s curiosity about Adam’s personal life._

 _Adam told me a long time ago, perhaps after I’d read one of those reviews and had been feeling pretty bummed, to give them what they wanted. I thought about it, but then Mina was born, and it just seemed like a horrible idea after that. In fact, in truth I kind of wanted to lock her away in a tower and keep her as far from the prying eyes of the world as possible until she was all grown, safe and sound._

 _But I’m writing this on Mina’s fourth birthday. She’s starting preschool in just a few days and she’s so like Adam – talented and charming and so extroverted – and I realize now that a tower would be the cruelest fate I could give her._

 _So maybe it’s time to write all of this._

 _You want to know the sordid details? Okay. I can give you that. Here I go:_

 _This morning I woke up in the arms of a man I love, tonight I will fall asleep in the arms of a man I love, and in between then I get to throw a birthday party for the cutest little girl in the whole world, a daughter who happens to have three fathers._

 _Pretty scandalous stuff right there._

 _Of course my editors are going to say that’s not satisfying. And I do hate to disappoint my readers._

 _So here it is, a day in the life of Sam Raines, replete with all the nasty, filthy secrets._

 _This morning I woke up with Adam. It’s not unusual that it was only Adam in my bed, and it wouldn’t have been unusual if it had only been Tommy. But more often than_ _not, we’re lucky enough to wake up together – all three of us, in a warm, snuggly pile._

 _But around four in the morning, Mina had a nightmare, and so Tommy got up to make sure our little girl was alright and must have fallen asleep with her in her Tinkerbell-covered bed._

 _(Yes, she loves Tink. But moreover, Peter Pan and the pirates. To my delight, she likes almost everything I read to her, including Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, and even Harry Potter. To Tommy and Adam’s utter disdain, she seems to like making up her own stories far more than singing, but I have a feeling that will change. Lately I’ve been catching her eyeing the piano in our living room with guarded interest.)_

 _It was Tommy who woke me up. He crawled between me and Adam, kissing us both but lingering on Adam’s mouth._

 _Our relationship relies on a lot of subtle hints, a lot of nonverbal cues and a seemingly whole different language known only to us, in which we communicate our wants and desires._

 _This hint was a no-brainer. I took it and got up, stretching as Adam and Tommy kissed lazily. “I’ll go make breakfast. See you in a bit.”_

 _I checked on Mina before I went to the kitchen, and she was sound asleep in her little bed, which had been designed to look like a tree house. It had taken me and Adam nearly three days to figure out how to put the damn thing together, and then for ages she hadn’t wanted to sleep in it at all and had shown up in our bed at all hours of the night._

 _I’m learning as a parent that the longer it takes you to build something, the more they either ignore it or want to play with the box instead._

 _Our house in Ohio is small compared to our others, but I can’t deny that we all kind of love the cramped nature of it._

 _Meg’s already in the kitchen, sipping coffee, and we kiss each other on the cheek and don’t bother with a spoken greeting. It’s too early for either of us to talk yet._

 _Meg, Mina’s mother and my best friend in the whole world, is never far from her daughter. Right now she’s working as a forester at the state park that surrounds this house, but she’s looking for a transfer somewhere closer to L.A., where Mina will attend a private school once it’s time for kindergarten._

 _Yes, L.A. is where we will really settle down. It just makes more sense for us the majority of the time, although the many cross-country flights to New York will take some getting used to._

 _So why Ohio now, you ask?_

 _Because we spoil that child rotten and actually let her choose her preschool, and the preschool in Ohio all but bribed her with snack time and play time and origami birds. In other words, the preschools in L.A. and NYC talked to us; in Ohio they talked to Mina, and Mina is easily charmed._

 _I start on breakfast and glance across the yard, at the artist studio above the garage. There aren’t any lights on yet, so I only get enough food out for five. Jamie and Cameron, our permanent houseguests, will have to fend for themselves._

 _“They said they’d be over by ten to help with decorations, and your parents will be here at noon,” Meg says as if reading my mind._

 _Sometimes I almost think it’s a shame that Mina doesn’t look a thing like her. Meg’s very pretty, with her auburn hair and her soft features, and since Meg has no plans to_ _marry I sometimes wonder if Mina was her only chance at passing those good looks on._

 _But that makes Mina sound like she isn’t pretty, and she is. She’s the prettiest child in the whole world._

 _I’m not being a biased father, either. She genuinely is. Because she looks like her father._

 _Since before she was born, tabloids were begging for pictures, offering obscene amounts of money for just one shot of her, and we’ve never let her be photographed by anyone outside of our little family. (Well, save for Lee Cherry, but he’s really family too.)_

 _It’s not just for privacy reasons, you see. It’s because we always wanted Mina to think of her fathers as equals, even if only one could be her true, biological father. We most certainly didn’t want her to hear otherwise from people who had seen her picture in a trashy magazine and made rude comments about it because the truth is, her paternity is obvious._

 _Besides, I could swear she knows anyway. At the ripe old age of four, she values fairness above all other things and would deny that she has a favorite vehemently, but there is a connection to her real father that I think she feels instinctively._

 _After all, I am Dad, Adam is Dad, but since the day she could talk, Tommy has always been Daddy._

 _Adam is, of course, an outstanding father. It’s like he reads her mind most of the time. I’m not bad at it myself, I like to think. And Mina loves us so much that sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to explode with it._

 _But Tommy’s the one she cries out for in the middle of the night when she has a bad dream, he’s the one she asks for when she’s sick or when she has a booboo, and he’s always the last one to get a goodnight or goodbye kiss, like she wants to linger a little longer with him._

 _I understand that. Who doesn’t love Tommy that way?_

 _And fatherhood certainly suits him. It’s softened him a little, maybe. Brought all his warmth and compassion to the surface. Or maybe it’s just that since the first time he held her, he’s thought of nothing but keeping her safe and happy._

 _And god, she knows it. She manipulates him like no other. And because Adam and I have always been suckers for white-blonde hair, big brown eyes, and turned up noses, she has us wrapped around her little finger, too. It’s no wonder she’s a little spoiled. Okay, a lot._

 _Meg and I are done with breakfast by the time Adam comes down the stairs and helps himself to a plate warming in the oven. He kisses me on the mouth, and Meg on the cheek, before sitting down._

 __

 _“Tommy went back to sleep?”_

 _“He’s getting Mina up,” Adam answers, and sure enough, we hear the sounds of a grumpy little girl coming from upstairs. I don’t envy him that chore, but in less than a minute he’s magically changed her tone and she’s giggling with him._

 _She bounds down the stairs, dressed in one of the many costumes that Adam buys for her. This one is her favorite and mine as well: a pink flamingo._

 _As she leaps into Meg’s lap, crying, “Mommy!” loud enough to wake the dead, Tommy leans on the doorframe, shaking his head at Adam apologetically. “I tried to get her to go for the punk rock outfit, but she insisted on the flamingo.”_

 _“Good girl,” I say to her, winking at her across the table. Delighted, she hops off of her mother’s lap and runs to mine. I kiss her cheek and hold her close. She smells like the strawberry shampoo Meg bought for her, and something else that’s a little girly, but a little bit Tommy, too. I don’t know if smells are genetic, but I could swear sometimes that her skin smells like his._

 _“It’s my birthday,” she says to me as if I haven’t been planning for this day at all._

 _“Yep, and Grandma and Grandpa Raines will be here soon. And Jamie and Cameron.”_

 _Spoiled as she is, when we’d asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she didn’t answer “a pony” like we expected. She asked me to make her cupcakes and mashed potatoes, and wanted Adam to sing to her, and she wanted everyone she knew to play Twister with her._

 _“And mashed potatoes?” she asks me, amazed, like I’m giving her gold._

 _“And mashed potatoes.”_

 _Adam combs her hair with his fingers and she giggles at how it tickles. Adam’s some kind of little girl hair genius. He can somehow curl her hair just by twisting it around his fingers for a few seconds, and he sets to work styling it for the day while she eats a plate of eggs Tommy puts in front of her._

 _“Pink bow,” Adam asks, “or the shiny black headband today?”_

 _“Headband,” she answers with her mouth full, earning her a disapproving look from Meg, and she swallows before saying, “Sorry.”_

 _I wish I could keep holding her like this for a while, breathing in her strawberry scent while Adam does her hair and Meg and Tommy watch adoringly. But soon Jamie and Cameron are entering through the back door and it’s time to decorate for the party._

 _Mina hops off of my lap and is scooped up for a big birthday hug by Jamie and then Cameron in turn, and Tommy insists that she puts on socks and shoes before she goes outside._

 _“But Daddy… I wanna go barefoot.” She sticks out her pretty lower lip. It’s a pout I’ve seen on Tommy’s face a million times, and she works it like a pro. And damn if she isn’t ten times as adorable as he is when she does it._

 _He looks at me as if I can somehow give him the strength to say no, but I don’t have it in me either._

 _He strikes a compromise. “How about the jelly sandals?”_

 _That is obviously a good deal to her, and squealing, she runs off to put them on. For a minute the house is chaos as Tommy chases after her, laughing, Adam starts instructing Jamie and Cameron on where he wants decorations, and Meg begins to gather the dishes, adding her own decorating input whenever Adam pauses. I sit at the table, watching it all, relishing it, too happy to properly put it into words._

 _It’s moments like this when I know beyond a doubt that I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive._

 _Then the room is quiet, only Meg and I are left, and she sits next to me. She watches without saying a word as I turn my wedding ring around on my finger. Adam, Tommy, and Landon’s names are inside it, circling around and around for eternity. As it turns out, Tommy and Adam decided to get rings matching mine, and Tommy inscribed our names in his too. Adam did the same, only he also put the symbols for Libra and Capricorn on the outside._

 _Meg stills my hand with hers. “I can’t believe she’s four already,” she says to me when I meet her gaze._

 _“I know. Pretty soon she’ll be driving and going on dates with boys who don’t deserve her and Jesus, what are we going to do then?”_

 _Meg laughs. “You know…” she begins in a tone that has always meant trouble. “You could have another. Another sweet little baby to fill the house with even more laughter.”_

 _“Meg,” I warn her, but I have to admit, it sounds lovely._

 _She leans in close, her long earrings ringing like little bells as she moves. They have stars and moons on them. “We could name it Landon, if it’s a boy…”_

 _That is pretty much all the convincing I need. A little boy named Landon, with Tommy’s eyes. Or maybe Adam’s. Adam’s eyes are close to the shade of blue that Landon’s were. That might be fitting._

 _“What are you smiling about?” Tommy asks from the doorway. Mina zips through the kitchen and out the back door, where we can see her run across the yard and climb Adam like a tree._

 _“I think I want to change my vote,” I say, and when Tommy’s brow rises in question, I explain. “I think maybe two kids might not be a bad idea. Two is a nice, rounded number, don’t you think?”_

 _Tommy grins wide. “I love that this is a democracy.”_

 _I don’t remind him that the democracy was my idea, but I do tell him that Adam might need some convincing._

 _But as I say it, Mina lets out a giggle that makes my heart swell with love for her. Tommy’s smile says he’s feeling the same. As we look out into the yard, Adam’s balancing Mina on his shoulders and he’s smiling as big as I’ve ever seen him smile as she bends over him to kiss his forehead._

 _Tommy comes up behind me and I look up at him, and he kisses me much like Mina had just kissed Adam. “I have a feeling this vote might be unanimous.”_

 _And that, dear readers, is the biggest secret you’ll read all year, innocent and sappy as it is: this big family of mine is about to get even bigger._


End file.
